lays its eyes upon and is able to carry 
off. Teaspoons, thimbles, small scis- 
sors, etc., etc., are its favorite tempta- 
tion to pick up and carry off to hide in 
some nook or cranny, between the shin- 
gles on the roof of the house or barn, 
for instance. And he never forgets 
where he hides the things. Sometimes 
he will bring them forth again for ex- 
amination or to hide again elsewhere. 
Pete, our favorite pet crow had his 
good and his bad qualities. He was a 
great pal and was always on the hop 
wherever we boys went. His: failing 
was his fondness for young chickens, 
which led to his finish, When he 
thought there was nobody near he would 
peck the little chicks upon the head, 
thus killing them. We tried every- 
thing to break Pete of this bad habit, 
but to no avail. Then we carried him 
for several miles into the woods, leav- 
ing him there to his fate, we thought. 
But not for Pete, he was back home 
again almost as soon as we were. Pete 
was doomed. His fondness for chicken 
finally led to his execution. 
J. ForuH, 
New York City. 
A Good Salmon Year 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
ay; OUR readers may be interested to 
know that 1924 was the greatest 
salmon year ever known in Eastern 
Canada. 
Scores: 
Grand Cascapedia—Club Waters 7 
rods—589 salmon—12,8781% pounds 
—average 21.86. 
Restigouche Salmon Club—30 rods— 
1,808 salmon—31,529 pounds—aver- 
age 17.43. 
Voisie—7 rods—1,126 salmon—101 in 
one day. 
The fishing seems to have been very 
good in Norway also. 
4 rods—452 salmon—9,562 pounds— 
average 21.24. 
F. GRAY GRISWOLD. 


Se ee 
‘d ara 
The quintet that took the barbless hook motion picture 
Bass on the Deeply Sunken Fly 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
M* wife and I recently returned 
from a fishing trip to Brown’s 
Camps, Lake Kezar, Maine. The sec- 
ond day out, I was fishing in water 
from 25 to 30 feet deep with my 40 
year old trusty Leonard fly rod. I had 
on a leader with bait hook and drop 
fly woven at the end of the leader and 
to my surprise I caught a 12 inch bass 
on the dropper fly—and within an 
hour, I caught another on the same fly. 
The next day we went to the same lo- 
cality and caught another bass on that 
same fly. I have never heard or read 
of such an experience, so I thought it 
might be news to my brother fishermen. 
I went for salmon and fly fishing only, 
but I was told there were no trout, and 
salmon would not take the fly, so I had 
to content myself, much against my 
will, with bait fishing. I was informed 
that at some other time in the year 
there would be fly fishing. The camps 
are fine and the lake is a beautiful place 
for an outing. Golfing seems to be the 
main sport nowadays, however. 
CHARLES J. BATEMAN, Boston, Mass. 

Here is the party about to start out for the fishing grounds. 
Page 35 
The films 
they secured are among the most remarkable wild-life records yet produced 
Grey Squirrels Rare in this Cor- 
respondent’s Boyhood 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
HAVE just been reading your 
article on the black squirrel. More 
than 50 years ago, I was living near 
Hamilton, Ontario. The duck shooting 
on Burlington Bay was fine and in those 
days there were thousands of pigeons. 
I was the proud possessor of a long- 
barrel shot-gun, of course a muzzle 
loader. I had no boat, so I couldn’t do 
much duck shooting and the pigeons 
flew high, so I had to be satisfied with 
squirrel hunting. There were hundreds 
of black squirrels. . Whenever you 
found butternuts, hickory or beechnuts, 
these splendid little fellows were found. 
Some years, they were so plentiful that 
they would come out of the woods into 
the gardens. I have shot them from 
our front doorsteps. One year, they 
went West and thousands of them swam 
the rivers and “migrated” to the United 
States. They were seen on planks and 
floating logs and for two or three years, 
it was hard to find any in the woods. 
Then they came back again, I do not 
know where from, but they became just 
as plentiful as ever. Now, to the point 
—in all my years of squirrel hunting, 
I say only three and shot only two grey 
squirrels and the two I shot are worth 
talking about. Let me tell you why. 
I was hunting squirrels in Winter. On 
the top of a hollow tree, I saw a fine 
black squirrel come out of his hole. I 
shot him, as I thought, and for a few 
minutes he disappeared. I walked 
around the tree and down tumbled a 
fine grey squirrel. I rubbed my eyes 
—and there was no “moonshine” in 
those days. I know I shot at a black 
squirrel and where did the grey one 
come from. While I was standing there, 
down fell the black one. The second 
one I shot was some years later. The 
wind had been blowing very hard and 
had driven all the water out of a little 
