Marcu 31, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
ete 

Fun in Ice Fishing. 
“Let’s go ice fishing some day, Mr. B.” The 
speaker is Fred. Fred is a typical Adirondack 
woodsman. He can do anything from falling a 
mountain pine tree to getting dinner and washing 
the dishes. He is an expert teamster, log driver, 
trail cutter and cook. A good man to go in the 
woods with whether you are after deer, foxes, 
partridges or rabbits. Fred is a true sportsman, 
a little rough sometimes in the lumber camp, or 
when he takes a night off with the fellows, tough 
and rugged as an oak tree, but again as gentle, 
thoughtful and kindly as a woman. 
The time of year had come, the signs were 
right and Fred wanted to go ice fishing. Now, 
this is to tell of a sport too little known, which 
is in some ways the most luxurious pastime that 
one can engage in. The place is Lake Champlain. 
This noble body of fresh water over 120 miles in 
length and fifteen miles wide is to this northern 
country what the sea is to the southern border 
of States. Its scenery is most beautiful and at- 
tractive to summer visitors. Beyond the stretch 
of water are the Green Mountains of Vermont 
to the east, and toward the sunset tower in 
grandeur the peaks and giant domes of the Adi- 
-rondacks. This country has its winter attractions 
far too little known or appreciated. For magnifi- 
cence of scenery the summer greenery cannot 
compare with the snow-capped summits glisten- 
ing in the sunshine. Lake Champlain is at this 
season a vast stretch of ice. There has been but 
little snow this year and the winter has been un- 
usually open. The lake was late in freezing over. 
Usually sleigh roads cross the lake from the New 
York to the Vermont side at many points and 
different angles. Some winters boat racing on 
the ice is as much in vogue as sailing in summer. 
Mile stretches are marked off on the solid ice for 
horse trotting, and this is a country with many 
fine bred horses. 
But we have set the day for ice fishing. Fred 
believes in getting off in the morning if there is 
anything doing. We are to drive from Elizabeth- 
town to Westport, about eight miles distant. 
Lunch baskets are well filled, fishing tackle is 
looked over and put in order, tobacco pouches 
are replenished, for what is fishing without a 
pipe? Fur coats are put on, for the drive will be 
cold in the early morning and coming back in the 
evening. We get under way about 7:30. 
“Fred. what is ice fishing like, how do you do it?” 
“You just wait, and if they are biting if you 
don’t say it is the biggest fun you ever had then 
I'll lose my guess. When you get reeling in a 
good big one you'll get so excited I’ll have to hold 
you or you'll knock the shanty over.” 
“What, are we in a house?” 
“Why, yes; with a coal stove and chairs and a 
table to eat on and hooks to hang up your things; 
I tell you it’s great.” 
Sure enough, it was all that Fred in his exu- 
berance of spirits had pictured it. The shanty 
(the west shore of the lake is dotted with them 
at this time of the year) is a little house about 
8x1o built on runners. It is drawn out on the 
ice and located over deep water with a special 
view to favoring currents and places where the 
fish run. Four holes about a foot and a half 
square are cut neatly through the floor, two at 
each end of the house. Below these holes in the 
floor the ice is drilled through with a long chisel 
made for the purpose. It does not take long to 
get to work. Fred has the little cylinder coal 
stove going in no time. We pull off our fur 
coats, and as soon as business really begins we 
get off the next one. Fred is always in his shirt 
sleeves except Sundays, if there is anything going 
on. You can tell who is coming by that red and 
yellow plaid as far as you can see. It is not long 
before something is going on. Seated in a chair 
between these two holes in the floor and ice, 
with a reel in each hand, we pay out about sixty 
feet of line. The hooks are baited with a bit of 
fish left over. for the purpose. Nearly all fish are 
cannibals and prefer the flesh of their own kind 
and kindred to anything else. Fred is somewhat 
of a philosopher in his way, and remarked while 
baiting my hook: “Aint it queer big fish eat 
little fish, and big men eat little men?” It struck 
me that his remark was a sage one. 
Very soon things begin to happen. Fortu- 
nately the first bite is made on the right hand 
hook, I give a tremendous yank and wait an in- 
stant for that telltale wiggle at the other end of 
the telephone to let me know whether the fish is 
hooked or not. Yes, he is on. Now steady, don’t 
get excited. Put your left hand reel over a hook 
provided for the purpose and wind in the fish. 
Mine is the first fish. “Where are you Fred? I 
thought you were a fisherman.” Isn’t he a beauty, 
about seven inches long, clear and shiny as a new 
nickel, just the right size for frying for breakfast. 
This ice fish is the Champlain smelt. It varies in 
size from the little things no bigger than your 
finger that are caught in shallow water near the 
shore to a fish weighing half and three-quarters 
of a pound taken in ten fathoms or more of water. 
I had a thrilling .experience with a big one 
The bite was on my left line and possibly the 
yank lacked the strength to set the hook home. 
It was an exciting time. My other line was 
hastily disposed of and I was giving all my atten- 
tion to the business in hand. I declared that I 
had hooked a mammoth pike, but I might have 
known that the smelt which we had been catching 
rapidly would not tarry in the neighborhood of 
the shark-mouthed and ravenous pickerel. 
“Keep him coming,’ says my mentor, “steady, 
gens let him bunt against the ice and clear him- 
Selita 
Zip, first to this side of the hole and then to 
the other goes my line, Fred is over at my end 
of the shanty now. 
“Gee whiz, did you see him? He is as big as 
a shad. Take care, you will lose him when he 
gets up to the ice. No, he’s coming, slowly now; 
don’t try to lift him by the hook.” 
But alas, who can think of all these things at 
once? I wanted that fish in the house with me, 
and when I gave the last tug to flop him up on 
the floor he cleared himself from the hook. IL 
think Fred would have gone through the hole in 
the floor after him had I not been in his way. We 
looked sadly into each other’s eyes. Fred’s 
bulged like tea saucers. 
“Gosh, that was as big as they grow! He must 
have been a grandfather!” 
It was now time for lunch, and I was ready 
to rest. The tea was hot and we tried to drown 
our grief in drink. Think of a cup of smoking 
hot tea on ice two feet thick! The baskets were 
taken down from the shelf. I exchanged some 
brown bread for a Frankfurter, and by various 
and mutual arrangements we made out a sumptu- 
ous repast. The lighted pipe calls up pleasant 
reminiscences of past fishing days. Fred’s stories 
were better for the liver than any pastry desserts. 
He told of the time when some years ago sitting 
in that same chair looking down through the ice 
he saw a fish, he didn’t know what kind of a fish 
it was, but it was so long that the man sitting by 
the hole at the opposite end of the shanty saw the 
head while its tail was passing underneath Fred’s 
chair. At another time our story-teller was sleep- 
ing on the floor of the shanty. The night was 
dark and the wind blowing a gale. All at once 
there was a report of breaking ice which sounded 
to the sleeper like the crack of doom. He thought 
that the shanty and everything in it was going to 
the bottom of the lake. One wild dash took him 
through the door, which was buttoned on the in- 
side, carrying buttons and door before him. Once 
in the open he found that there was no danger, 
but that the settling of the ice along the shore 
produced at times a noise like thunder, and 
enough to waken the seven sleepers. 
Lunch over we start in fishing again, not wholly 
forgetting the large one lost, but hoping that he 
or as big a one will favor us with a bite. This 
hope is not fully realized, although we take a nice 
lot of good-sized ones. As a rule, this kind of 
fish bite best in the afternoon. Naturally in such 
deep water they are late risers. The contest be- 
comes keen as the hour draws near when we must 
reel up and start for home. It is about 4 o’clock, 
and some fishermen who live nearby are just com- 
ing out to their shanties to try their luck. No 
doubt it will be good. We have taken about a 
peck of beauties and they are still biting well. I 
have found that this fish which is a good deal of 
a delicacy is difficult to buy in the markets at 
Westport, near the lake. They are shipped 
away to Albany, N. Y., or neighboring cities, as 
soon as caught, and the demand is greater than 
the supply. Our fur coats are very comfortable 
on the drive home. 
“Good night, Fred, old boy, ice fishing is all 
you cracked it up to be. We will go again some 
day. To-morrow is Friday, we will eat fish and 
see that our neighbors have some. Good night, 
and good luck.” JABEz BACKUS. 
ELIZABETHTOWN, N. Y. 
Seining in Missisquoi Bay. 
One of the great attractions of Lake Cham- 
plain is the splendid fishing to be had in its 
waters. This attraction, together with the beauty 
of the region and its healthfulness, brings mul- 
titudes of visitors thither every summer, and 
these resources mean wealth or a competence 
to a majority of the people who live there all 
the year around. 
Mr. Chambers wrote last week about the failure 
of the authorities on opposite sides of the line 
to come to an agreement to stop netting, and 
some further details of this matter are given 
below: 
Many years ago, the authorities of the United 
States and Canada came to an understanding 
that seinittg would be prohibited at Missisquoi 
Bay, and for about twelve years no licenses were 
issued by the Canadians or by the authorities 
of Vermont. Recently, however, John W. Tit- 
comb, then State Fish and Game Commissioner 
of Vermont, was informed that the Canadians 
had begun to seine again, and therefore issued 
licenses to Vermonters to seine. A little later, 
it was found that the information sent Mr. Tit- 
comb about seining by the Canadians was incor- 
rect, but now the Canadians claimed that the 
American authorities had broken the agreement, 
and they began to issue licenses to their own 
people. 
Mr. Jean Prevost, Minister of Fisheries, has 
declared more than once that seining will be pro- 
hibited in the Province of Quebec this year, but 
he has found lately that political influence is too 
strong for him, and recently wrote Commission- 
er H. B. Thomas, of Stowe, Vt., that the prac- 
tice would be tolerated this year, but would be 
prohibited hereafter. 
It is stated that the inability of the Canadian 
authorities to stop this wholesale fishing is due 
to political influence. Mr. McCorkill, who is a 
member of the Provincial Parliament from Miss- 
isquoi county and also the Provincial treasurer, 
favors seining, and puts all possible obstacles in 
the way of stopping it. Mr. Meigs, another Can- 
adian member of Parliament, also favors seining 
for the reason that his constituents desire to prac- 
LICE Rt. 
It is hoped that in another year, Minister Pre- 
vost may succeed in putting an end to this prac- 
tice, and efforts are likely to be made by the 
legislatures of New York and Massachusetts to 
cut off the markets in those two cities. If this 
should be done, seining will stop of itself. 
San Francisco Fly-Casting Club Preserve 
Tue San Francisco Fly-Casting Club recently 
purchased for a trout fishing preserve all the land 
owned by Dr. Zimmer on the banks of the Truc- 
kee River, not far from Truckee. The land pur- 
chased covers both sides of the river for nearly 
a mile. A club house is to be built, the land fenc- 
ed, and the waters protected by guards. 
This action has excited great indignation among 
local anglers who have always fished in these 
waters, and feel that no private association should 
take from them what they have always had. 
This is one of the signs of the times which 
sportsmen generally, whether gunners or anglers, 
will be obliged to face. It is a natural sequence 
of the increase of population throughout the coun- 
try and the consequent relative reduction in ter- 
ritory to be shot or fished over. The game and 
fish preserve idea works hardship in many cases, 
and the most obvious remedy for it, is the es- 
tablishment of game and fish refuges such as 
are proposed in the Lacev bill and in Senator 
Perkins’ bill, and by the different States as well. 
