

FOREST AND STREAM. 






JBA\ ANINID JRIWTEIR TFTISIGUING 


Royal Fish in Newfoundland. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
There are not many mighty men, not many 
kings, and, whatever your longings are at the 
start, you are soon convinced that you are not 
entitled to many imperial fish. Then comes con- 
tentment with the ordinary luck of a few that 
are peerless. 
A salmon goes a great way, no matter what 
his weight, so that even the fisherman whose 
dominant thought is not of the sport, but what 
he will brag about at home, is naturally educated 
to the infinite superiority of quality, and the 
glory of the life and contest on the stream, rather 
than in the amazement of home listeners. 
The run from Boston by boat to Yarmouth, 
Nova Scotia, thence to North Sidney, and across 
the strait to Port Aux Basques, Newfoundland, 
occupies about two and two-thirds days, and you 
are then only twenty-two miles from Afton farm 
where we stopped. As we left the train on Sun- 
day morning in middle July we found ourselves 
in the midst of a dozen sportsmen and guides, 
waiting for the train, and heard the remark made 
in a merry way, “Some more fishermen,” as 
though we had come to divide hard luck with 
those who had endured trials. We had heard 
at Port Aux Basques that sportsmen were so 
thick on Little River as to be tumbling over 
each other, and that salmon were not reciprocally 
“tumbling” to the opportunity to encourage them. 
But such things as that should never disturb a 
fisherman’s hopes, for “Men may come and men 
may go, but I go on forever.” ‘There are as 
good fish in the sea, etc.’”’ Always keep wise 
saws and rainbow quotations to the front when 
a-fishing. 
The Little Codroy winds its course through 
Afton farm and other fields and open lands for 
five miles of fishing, offering a dozen famous 
pools, with many not much inferior runs of quick 
water. When the pools are whipped to a stand- 
still, the runs afford encouragement while the 
pools are resting. The guides say, “The fish go 
through all this water; no crossing overland. 
See if you cannot tease one out of that riffle.” 
Very beautiful is the river in its variety of 
swift and quiet water, in its continual windings 
between alder-fringed banks and pebbly beaches. 
Just a little distance away stretch along for 
miles the steep sides of bold mountains. Down 
their furrowed slopes come the small trout 
brooks, but little honored with fishing rods be- 
cause of the more engaging quest of the lordly 
salmon. There are no warnings, “Keep off the 
grass,” so that through the tall timothy and red- 
top just back of the aldered banks are the well 
worn trails. The farmers bear welcome in their 
faces. They can mark for you from day to day 
where the salmon and grilse have been seen leap- 
ing, and, as planting and hoeing are not great 
masculine burdens in their farming—for the 
wives and girls know how to use the hoe about 
as well as the men—and as haying does not begin 
until well into August, you can be guided by 
man or boy for a very reasonable consideration. 
They are excellent guides, and will keep you 
from threshing hopeless water. If you are will- 
ing to tire your fish to the edge of death in the 
water, and to risk it, you can gaff your own 
quarry and dismiss your guide, but big fish are 
not such willing risers as to make it pleasant 
to run too many chances after hooking one. 
There are thoroughbreds, however, who de- 
light to give the fish every possible chance, and 
honor themselves with every move from rise to 
finish. If it takes time to do this, undoubtedly 
the time is fraught with blessed joy mingled 
with the greater anxiety and uncertainty. 
It is refreshing when the fishermen are brought 
together at night to see the all absorbing thought. 
Nothing is discussed but the salmon, the in- 
fluence of the weather, the best kind of flies and 
tackle, and what are the chances on some neigh- 
boring streams. No matter who speaks, profes- 
sional or business man, priest or layman, to gain 
the best attention he must not divert the mind 
by aught except what pertains to the moody and 
mysterious habitant of the river. Strenuous ac- 
tivity at home, leadership in great interests, the 
burden of lives or souls—these must be dismissed 
without an apology, and command to rest in this 
race for the fish of high degree. To outgeneral 
his weariness, to make him forget his morning 
prayer not to be led into temptation, to meet his 
wonderful power, when, witharush for the lure, 
he joins battle with you, command absorbing 
effort, and make profane any thought of the 
anxieties from which the sportsman has fled. 
This was a new place to us, and, after we 
saw our baggage disposed of, we settled down 
on the piazza to exhibit our simplicity and cur- 
iosity without disguise. As it was the Sabbath 
day, of course the better sportsmen were rest- 
ing or doing some sacred stunt. The pegs along 
the wall of the house under the piazza were not 
all doing work for the rods, nothing to our sur- 
prise, since courtesy to the newcomers dictated 
a few unoccupied places. Might not the inclina- 


THE LITTLE CODROY 
ABOVE 
WIDOW’S POOL. 


tion come to string the rods after the sun se 
so as to be sure that Monday might not be to 
short a day? There might have been a fey 
greenhearts just loafing down near the hom 
pool. 
We turned our eyes to the flies that dangle 
from the leaders on the rods and noted that the 
were tied on No. 6 hooks. That agreed wit 
our selection. Some were with double and som 
single hooks. This single hook heresy was 
little contrary to our book theology, but it wa 
in line with the trend of the minimum disguis¢| 
As to the clothing of the mischief, Jock Scot| 
led, silver doctor held a second choice with blac’! 
dose, and fairy was not far behind. Ina genera}, 
summing up, the signs consoled our prejudg, 
ment and flattered what had been written for u| 
and others about the whims of Newfoundlani 
salmon. 


















































































































We noted the small allowance of feather, bu. 
we did not discover the absence of blue in hackli. 
or wing until the next day, when our guide callec 
for scissors and carefully cut out all of that colo 
in both hackle and wing. We made no pro) 
test, since he was our doctor. It marked thi 
millinery taste of the Codroy salmon, and thi 
judgment of the local expert was to us sacred| 
Next we looked over the rods, short and long 
bamboo and greenheart. We concluded that ; 
thirteen or fourteen foot rod need not bi! 
ashamed to hang on the average peg; whethe: 
it were greenheart or split bamboo would b«. 
more a matter of comfort than sufficiency fo:| 
the work. When the two weeks’ whipping anc. 
fighting were over, our thirteen-foot greenhear: 
had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be) 
excused as a weakness, and was just as com: 
plete for another severe contest as when it was 
initiated. Our host, “Jim,” said it took his fancy 
and judgment. We bought it because Jim hac 
seen all that had been doing there for several 
years in fighting fish. | 
We have always admired the early riser for 
trout fishing on streams. But on salmon rivers 
there is considerable doubt about the value ol 
an early start, for the morning breeze that creates | 
the ripple is not due till mid-forenoon, and to 
whip the water before that breeze is to work 
against the day’s best friend. The strenuous 
early riser claims that the imperfect morning 
light and the greater freshness of the fish offset: 
the ripple at least in quick water. | 
The season had opened on the Little Codroy 
the week before, the first fish having been taken | 
well up the stream on July 11, a twenty-pounder.| 
Scattered in the lower pools near to tide water) 
a few had been taken, but the success had not! 
been satisfactory. The 1907 season was two or, 
more weeks late. On the Grand Codroy the. 
season opens three weeks ahead of the Little) 
River. The selection of the lower stretch of 
the stream by the fishermen who preceded us in| 
their arrival turned our first day’s efforts to 
the upper pools. The water was fairly high, even| 
at the fords, so that it was nip and tuck to cross 
with waders without getting a cool sensation | 
from an overflow. Boat fishing is practiced to! 
some extent on the lower mile, but, when it is! 
possible, it is much preferable to stand on the| 
gravel of the bottom when casting, even if the! 
water comes threateningly near the top of your 
waders, for you cannot only cast better, but you) 
will not be in danger of a mishap when you have | ' 
to get out to handle your fish. | 
Monday’s result was merely an introduction | 
to a big fellow who took advantage of a step 
to 1 better footing to throw himself at the loosely | 
trailing fly. Between fish and man, the weight| 
of sorrow was solely on our shoulders. There | 
was a noisy splash, a quick glance, the sheen : 
on a great gray body, a disappointment, a flaw | 
in our title, and something to fasten upon one’s 
memory, not an entirely regretful episode, 


