FOREST AND STREAM. 










Jackfish for Pickerel and Carp Waters. 
FisHEs from the Canadian hatcheries are dis- 
tributed early in the year, and if any one wishes 
to make use of my suggestion anent the em- 
ployment of jackfish as traps, in pickerel and 
carp waters, it would be well to place orders 
soon. ‘The jackfish (Esox lucius) will probably 
thrive wherever the pickerels thrive. It very 
often reaches a weight of twenty pounds, and 
under favorable circumstances may get to weigh 
twice as much. Two or three years ago while 
fishing in Sand Lake in Minnesota I hooked a 
jackfish, weighing seven pounds, and while draw- 
ing it toward the canoe it was seized by an- 
other jackfish, which escaped after tearing long 
holes in the first one. Ever since that time I 
have wanted to know something about the di- 
mensions of the big chap who mistook the 
seven-pounder for a customary sort of bait. 
The jackfish is far superior to the pickerel as 
a table fish, and a good solid slab from its side, 
nicely browned in the camp-fire fry-pan, and 
served all hot, juicy and sizzling, with a little 
bit of light ash sticking to it here and there, will 
make one glad that he came. 
It is a good enough fighter to belong 
honestly to the game fish list, and there are 
always chances of getting hold of a sockdol- 
ager. Its food consists largely of suckers and 
of other members of the carp family that lay 
themselves liable to arrest in the shallow waters 
among the weed beds; but I do not remember 
ever to have found a trout of any kind in its 
stomach. Of course, the jackfish is no saint. 
His jaw gives him dead away. 
During the past twenty-five years I have ex- 
amined very many jackfish stomachs, from the 
Mississippi to Labrador, and from ‘the Rainy 
Lakes to Hudson’s Bay. Sometimes there was 
a breakfast of pancakes of sunfish, once in a 
while a hot backed bass or pike-perch, and 
occasionally something delicate in the way of 
whitefish, ciscoes, or lake smelts, but usually 
suckers made the chief articles of the menu. 
It is a question if the attempt at ridding the 
Nipigon River of jackfish was based upon proper 
examination of stomach contents, and it may 
be that the suckers which are now allowed to 
thrive will eat up bushels of trout eggs that 
otherwise would have been safe. The jackfish 
might really be chosen, for an heraldic emblem, 
with a legend of Ojibway words, “Pehjik niij 
nisswe machad!”’ What more proper for an 
emblem than something that gets rich and 
powerful by pouncing upon things that nobody 
else wants? 
The jackfish is a fighter, 
of that? My own family emblem is a dove 
rampant, with various gules and .gargoyles 
which probably signify that my ancestors, not 
content with robbing hen roosts, extended ‘their 
operations to the dove cote as well. I have 
kept doves, and jackfish (all but the smaller 
sizes of the latter), and anybody who has kept 
doves knows what sort of peace is loose in the 
barnyard on Sunday morning when Old Blue 
gets to worrying Spotty until the hens cackle, 
the colt kicks the hostler, the Leghorn rooster 
pitches into the turkey gobbler, the cow lows, 
the rabbit hies, and the geese leave symbols on 
the lawn. To be sure a game fish has to be a 
little careful when he is near a jackfish, and the 
latter has even been known to play against a 
hand consisting of four of a kind and a thumb 
which was carelessly trailing alongside the 
canoe. 
I would not put jackfish into trout waters, if 
these waters did not already contain some of the 
pickerel, or the European carp, although jack- 
fish and trout are found side by side in many 
Canadian lakes and rivers to-day. Some of the 
Adirondack lakes, in which I caught trout as 
of course, but what 
ISEA AND RIVER FISTING 
a youth, are now occupied chiefly by the re- 
ticulated pickerel, and I would wager a good 
deal that if a few trap jackfish were set under 
the lilypads of those lakes, the pickerel would 
enter the traps sideways, backwards, front- 
ways, and in all sorts of ways so rapidly that 
the trout would in a few years abound once more 
in their old haunts. 
There are hundreds of lakes in Maine which 
contain pickerel averaging less than two pounds 
in weight, and if jackfish were to be placed in 
these lakes they would make a merger of the 
pickerel and furnish something worth while. I 
have had jackfish seize hooked trout, lake trout 
and ouananiche, but that sort of thing does not 
count in the present argument. It is not fair to 
call him a thief just because I had the fish 
first. 
Another advantage of introducing jackfish 
would be in lessening the number of things that 
are called “pike.” The jackfish is called pike 
in many parts of Canada. A little further south 
the doré is called the pike. In other places the 
fasciated pickerel is a pike; and way down in 
magnolia land a “gahfish is a pike, sah. Yessah.” 
Just as I finish writing, Forest AND STREAM 
for this week arrives, and Mr. Charles Christa- 
doro expresses on page 529 his doubts about the 
voracious pickerel holding its own against the 
carp in Oregon. It was jackfish and not pickerel 
that came into the question. Jackfish can be 
discussed, but for pickerel, please elide the 
“dis.” In European waters I have often found 
jackfish, carp and trout all living together where 
the had lived together for centuries, and the 
balance of nature was maintained in spite of the 
fisherman’s influence. In all probability the 
jackfish in Oregon would roll up its sleeves and 
tackle the carp job in true Oregon style, and we 
all know what that means. 
Rogsert T. Morris. 
Angling in Canada. 
EvaANnsTON, Ill., Dec. 25.—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Ona bright June morning last summer 
I was delightfully enjoying my dolce far mente 
on the veranda of the noted Rainsmere, at Sea 
Gull, Canada, and then felt as if life was worth 
living. As time rolled along the beauty of the 
advancing day threw generous sunshine over the 
broad and majestic river and turned hill and 
dale in one great crimson glow. The buttercups, 
as if inspired by the radiance, proudly danced 
their golden coronets, the swallows skimmed 
swiftly along the tops ‘of the waving grass, while 
some breast-tinted robin sang a little tinkling 
litany from the branch of an alder. Here, in this 
vernal prodigality, you could see the ethereal 
hummingbird and the butterfly parading their 
lovely tinted robes, while the wild rapture of 
thrushes and the laughter of woodpeckers were 
heard from dawn till dusk. It was a scene of 
wondrous beauty, and from its very essence and 
spirit one feels soothed by these outcroppings of 
nature, which speaks with celestial force, and 
which a Dante or Milton would have worshipped. 
I was absorbed with it and drank so deeply of it 
as to be entirely oblivious to the world of sordid 
reality. 
I, however, was recalled to it by my ever oblig- 
ing host, who had just returned from the dock 
and who gave me the pleasing intelligence that 
my old comrade of the north shore was at the 
dock with his electric launch and desired me to 
take an outing with him in pursuit of the finny 
breed. It did not take me long, with such delight 
in view, to secure my rod and tackle box and pre- 
sent myself as ready for the sport. I was some- 
what surprised when I found a party of five 
anglers, as I thought, consisting of his son Nor- 
man, his son-in-law Harry and his wife, and his 
other married daughter, both ladies of eulture 
and refinement and in addition accomplished 
anglers as well as star players in bridge whist. 
As the launch was only about fifteen feet long 
and a proportional width as well as frailty, I was 
satisfied that no party of six could angle in it 
with any degree of comfort, and that number 
really made it a dangerous experiment. I now 
brought all my diplomatic subtlety to my aid to 
retreat in good order from adding to the discom- 
fort of the ladies, which would ensue if I joined 
them. I therefore in a most courteous manner 
stated that nothing would give me greater pleas- 
use than to accompany them, but that I could not 
consistently add to the infelicity of the ladies by 
making a crowded condition in: the boat. 
“Oh,” spoke up Harry’s wife, who was then on 
the dock, “we are not going; it was really a 
miracle that we safely crossed the river.” 
“That being the case,’ I said, “I waive all ob- 
jections, though ladies always add to the pleasure 
of any party, as they are the crown of creation.” 
With a smile and thanks for the compliment 
from the fair dame I boarded the boat and soon 
had it impressed upon me that four in a boat 
was just one too many, and that before the day 
passed we would have a duplicate of Jerome’s 
mirthful adventures of “Three in a Boat,” minus 
the aggravating dog. 
Norman, who was a college youth of some 
nineteen years, and had the college yell and song 
as well as the football depravity and all the other 
devilments of the college well developed, was the 
electrical engineer, and I was satisfied that he 
could make about as much disaster as any certifi- 
cated professional. What he did not know about 
the most intricate and minutia of applied elec- 
tricity would unquestionably harrass any gray- 
haired veteran who had held the wires when they 
were sending out volts that would destroy the en- 
tire Russian army. However, he was a bright 
young man of much promise, and I felt perfectly 
safe as long as he held the responsible position. 
An electric boat is a fac-simile in many re- 
spects of an electric automobile. JI have had 
much experience in the latter, and while at 
Evanston my host unfortunately had one of them, 
and I think he had to have it charged anew 
oftener than ycu would take a horse to its oats. 
How many miles the poor man had to walk home 
from breakdowns or non-electricity would prob- 
ably encompass the planet. He purchased it at 
a small figure, and now he has some conscience 
relative to working it off as a gold brick game 
on some innocent purchaser. I:advised him to 
work it off on some insurance man and then he 
could sleep without being disturbed by cloven- 
footed nightmares. 
At the dock an example of the unreliability of 
the electric launch was made manifest. Norman 
turned on the power, or thought he had, but the 
boat remained motionless. He tinkered awhile 
with it, and then made another attempt to start, 
and still it moved not. Then I quoted, by way 
of keeping up our courage, what Roderick Dhue 
said to his foes: “This rock shall fly from its 
firm base as soon as I.” 
I now noticed that my reverent associate of 
the piscatorial had changed his radiant visage to 
one of sober reality and was doubless thinking 
of giving expression to some sturdy Saxon at 
the non-activity of the electricity. The internal 
fire’s suppressed rage had to come, however, and 
as Norman made his third failure to connect with 
the electrical puzzle he indignantly rose from his 
seat and looking like an infuriated avenger, 
fiercely exclaimed: “I'll be d——’ 
“Pa.” quickly spoke up Harry’s wife, who was 
awaiting our departure. And then the Governor 
sat down disappointedly with the gentle reproof, 
holding his vigorous language in check. 
Norman had at last achieved a triumph, for the 
