[7 is said that the largest specimens 
of this fish are caught in the Great 
Lakes region, some reaching up to two 
pounds weight. But the average maxi- 
mum weight of a northern sunfish is 
probably far below that; an eight ounce 
fish of the specie may be considered a 
large one indeed. However, it is when 
they are taken from the cold, clear 
waters of the north that one realizes 
that the beautiful creature of fins can 
fight and fight well at the leader’s end; 
and that they give a real record of 
their ability. There is not much dif- 
ference in the fighting ability of dif- 
ferent members of the sunfish family, 
one sub-species compared with another. 
Thus the pumpkin-seed is no better 
taken on the hook, by means of light 
tackle than the blue-gill, the latter 
often growing larger and bulkier than 
the former and in some water far more 
numerous. The blue-gill (Lepomis pal- 
lidus) is found throughout the whole 
Great Lakes region; two pound speci- 
mens are more commonly met with in 
this representative of the Centrarchidae 
than in any other that is found in the 
north. In the south, Louisiana and 
Florida, and other states bordering on 
the Gulf of Mexico the sunfish (there 
known as the bream) grow even larger 
and one is able to pick up two and 
three pound sunfishes on the markets, 
I have been told. I have never noticed 
any of such size in the southern mar- 
kets, but this does not say that they 
are not common to the waters. Like 
that other *member of the sunfish 
family, the large mouth black bass, it 
grows corpulent from feeding the year 
around whereas northern fish grow 
slowly, spending most of the winter 
season and spring in hibernation. The 
blue-gill is said to have been named pal- 
lidus in the year 1813 by Dr. Mitchell, 
who gave some little time to the study 
of this elegant food fish, whose sporting 
possibilities are of no mean order to 
say the very least. The term pallidus, 
by the way, is derived from the fact 
that it is of a pale color. One of the 
main distinguishing features of the 
blue-gill is its velvet-black, so-called 
ear. That the blue-gill is always pale 
in color is not necessarily so. Some 
blue-gills are pale, it is true; in others 
the back is brownish-green while the 
belly is copper-yellow, orange-yellow or 
reddish-yellow, being most prominent 
forward of the breast, at the nape of 
the breast so to speak. . Some large 
speciments of this fish are very richly 
colored in this respect. Probably it is 
true that the older a blue-gill is the 
richer the color on the breast, although 
it should be remembered that during 
the spawning season all the sunfishes, 
(the male adults) are deeply colored, 
the pigment cells then offering up their 
most exquisite hues, 
Page 461 
It is probably not exaggerating the 
matter in the least to say that nine- 
tenths of the sunfish caught in North 
American waters fall to the wriggle of 
an angleworm on a hook. This is not 
that there are no other methods of 
catching this sprightly fish but simply 
that it is the common practice of every- 
one from the little boy up to use the 
lowly earthworm and the Carlisle hook 
to bring the fellow in; not to mention 
the unreasonable sea fishing tackle that 
is often on exhibition. The long cane 
pole, the green cotton line and, as I 
have said, the Carlisle hook—these are 
the instruments whereby the pumpkin- 
seed and the blue-gill so often meet 
their fate. The gentleman who uses a 
three or four ounce fly-rod, a feather- 
weight open-work reel, a delicate enam- 
eled line, tapered nicely to a point to 
meet with a fine-calibered silkworm gut 
leader; added to which are the flies tied 
to Number 12, 14 and 16 hooks—I say 
the gentleman who uses such tackle in 
the capture of these fishes is certainly 
in the minority and you rarely ever get 
to see him. But go out some lovely 
summer evening when the afterglow is 
on the waters; when the last streamers 
of light are coloring the western steep 
of the heavens, when the sunfish are 
rising in shore by the thousands after 
insects—go forth then with your flies 
and your light tackle and you will find 
the sunfish only too eager to rise and 
will give you lusty fight before the net 
is dipped under him and you lift him 
clear of water. This is catching our 
well-known fish under conditions that 
are worthy of discussion on white 
paper. It is giving the fish the chance 
it deserves, which is quite different 
from anything that the still fisherman 
ever conceives of. 
pe catching of the sunfish and other 
like fishes on flies depends much 
upon the way you go about it. It is 
“fishing the rise’ much as one fishes 
for trout with the dry-fly, indeed the 
dry-fly is the best artificial lure to use. 
In the summer evenings when the sun- 
fish are near to shore and winged speci- 
mens are falling to the surface the 
skillfully placed fly should bring a rise 
at once. One watches the water and 
where there is a particularly heavy 
swirl, denoting the presence of a big 
fellow, there the fly is dropped, for that 
is the fish that one aims to get. The 
sooner the fly is placed over the spot 
where the rise was, or near to it, the 

greater are the chances of a catch. 
Owing to the small size of the mouth 
of the sunfish when it strikes the fly 
it seems more like plucking at it. The 
setting of the hook therefore calls for 
a wrist attuned to the act, for when 
that plucking feel is communicated 
along the length of the rod, it signifies 
the need of instant action. Many a 
big red-yellow fellow is thus hooked 
and from his fight you think him to 
be no less than a bass. When the 
tackle is light, count on the sunfish to 
give you a chance to feel his strength. 
He not only has resistance but he has 
a bag of tricks all his own that are not 
unworthy of a greater game fish. Have 
you taken these fine sunfish in the 
swirling pool of a stream? Very well, 
then you know what one of these fel- 
lows can do if you are using that wand 
of bamboo. And that, after all, is the 
only rod that should be used in the 
capture of the elegant fellow. 
T° my way of thinking, summer eve- 
nings are the best when angling for 
sunfish. You fool them then by imita- 
tion or a near-imitation of their food— 
the live insects submerged in the water. 
It is during the evening hours that the 
live moths drop to the water and are 
often noted fluttering on the surface 
of the water, endeavoring to get away 
from the clutches of the unknown. This 
very rapid flutter of the wings of the 
moth on the water attracts a fish for 
a great distance. It is principally as a 
trout lure that I made a floating, cork- 
bodied moth fly now sold everywhere 
in the country; but I found out later 
that as a lure for such fishes as the 
sunfish, the crappie and the rock bass it 
had even more of a place in the fancy 
of the finny life of the waters. 
Some years ago I conducted a lengthy 
correspondence with the late Dr. Harry 
Gove, of New Brunswick, one of the 
old school of anglers and a fly-tyer 
who was hard to equal. He once 
wrote: “In your last letter you spoke 
of the success you had had using an 
imitation of a swamp moth. This re- 
minds me that imitation moths, prop- 
erly constructed should occupy a con- 
spicuous place in every angiler’s fly- 
book. Some of the smaller ones, tied 
on a Number 10 hook, will get you a 
basket of fish when everything else 
fails. I make the statement that all 
of the caricatures that encumber the 
market, falsely representing that they 
imitate the American ephemeridae are, 
no doubt, mistaken by the trout for 
moths which are the only animate 
forms of life one could possibly con- 
ceive that they resemble and, mind 
you, I don’t say that they ever do.” 
Many a time in using the floating 
moth I have had a bass rise and snap 
(Continued on page 498) 
