20) 

FOREST AND STREAM 

HOW TO CATCH A SALMON. 
SES aL 
HE following sketch is from the able pen of Wm. TH, 
Venning Esq., Inspector of Fisheries for the Provinces of 
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, a gentleman in whose 
genial companionship we have rejoiced, by editorial desk 
and dashing stream. [Ep. F. & §.] 
‘At earliest dawn one morning in July, Fred, Charles, 
Harry and Jim woke from sound sleep on fragrant couches 
of fresh fir boughs, in their comfortable camp at Burnt 
Hill on the Miramichi, and after a refreshing plunge in the 
clear, cool water, proceeded, according to a programme ar- 
ranged the evening before, Fred and Jim to the ‘Supper 
casts,” where the ice-cold waters of Burnt Hill Brook flow 
over a succession of small ledges into the main river, Charles 
and Harry to the ‘‘ Pool,” and the rapids of ‘Grassy 
Island,” both within five minutes walk of the camp. 
Morning had raised the mantle of darkness, and the ruddy 
glow of the Eastern horizon told our fishermen they had 
no time to lose, as their hopes of freshly caught salman for 
breakfast depended on their skill in luring the monarch 
from his haunts amid the rocks which, at these points, 
break the quiet flow of the river into mimic waves and cir- 
cling eddies. Let us accompany them, gentle reader, and 
see how salmon are conquered by doughty knights of the 
rod and skillful squires of the gaff. 
Immediately in front of the camp, about twenty yards 
from the bank, is a flat-topped rock, that rises just above 
the level of the river, affording good footing and a splendid 
cast up, down and across the pool. Here we will leave 
Harry, who has waded to the rock, and is deftly casting a 
fly far down the quiet pool, and walk with Charles about 
forty rods further down the bank of the river, where Grassy 
Island divides the stream, and where the still waters of the 
pool rush swiftly through a narrow gorge on the hither 
side, broken into numberless eddies as it strikes the rocks 
thickly scattered below the island. A ledge, partially sub- 
merged, here extends- from the shore to the very edge of 
the foaming current, enabling the sure-footed angler to ap- 
proach so near that he can cast his fly well across the chan- 
nel that separates him from the island, and also down to 
the nearest rocks at its foot. Here our friend Charles has 
betaken himself, and, with skilful hand, is making his fly 
dance in the eddy of ‘‘ salmon rock.” The sun has peeped 
above the horizon and given him an encouraging wink; he 
is using his best skill, causing his fly to fall with the light- 
ness of the natural insect, allowing it to rest amoment, then 
making it flutter on the surface, and finally lifting it for a 
fresh cast. Apparently the wily fish is choice in his food 
this morning, for he gives no evidence of his presence, and 
a less experienced fisherman than our friend wonld_ hastily 
conclude that he was ‘‘not at home” for the day. Charles 
knows better; so, having offered his Highness one dish-with- 
out exciting even curiosity, he is now intent on substituting 
another of less gaudy hue and more modest proportions. 
While he is changing flies, let us just take our lungs 
fnll of this invigorating air, every inhalation of which is a 
positive pleasure, and look on the magnificent panorama 
before us, as length after length is unrolled in the gorgeous 
light of the rising sun. Is it not a sight to gladden the 
heart of the poor dweller in cities, who has almost forgot- 
ten when he last saw the sun rise? But look! Charles has 
caught either the monarch or his rock, for the arch of his 
rod tells its own tale. Ha! see there! a fifteen-pounder, at 
least! Again and again, the splendid flsh throws himself 
full length out of water in the vain effort to snap the thread 
of fate. Foiled, by the dexterous management of our ang- 
ler, in his'cunning attempts to throw himself across the 
slender line that held him, he made directly for the rapids, 
and a most exciting combat ensued. 
To the left, shorewards from the rock on which the ang- 
ler stood, was a small, quiet basin, sheltered from. the rush 
of water by the ledge, to the right; the water rushed with 
the velocity of a mill-race, broken into foam by sunken 
rocks and projecting points of the ledge. In this basin, 
could he only succeed in restraining his captive, there was 
ample room to ‘‘play his fish,” and every probability of 
ultimately securing him; but if he once got his nose into 
the rapid, no tackle could hold him, for the strength of the 
current was such that it required an effort to draw even the 
line up it; he would have the game all his own way, would 
run off from fifty to eighty yards of line, and most probably 
tangle or cut it round one of the numerous rocks at the 
foot of the rapid. As the whole energies of the fish were 
directed to getting into the current, the whole strength of 
rod and line, and all the skill and judgment of our angler 
were in requisition to keep him out of it. For some mo- 
ments it was a tie—the persistent efforts of the prisoner were 
met by a stern determination to try rod and line to the ut- 
most verge of prudence, and the two forces were so evenly 
balanced, that, for more than a minute, the fish did not 
gain an inch. Becoming convinced that his position was 
a dangerous one, desperation added strength to the prisoner, 
and slowly, foot by foot, he neared the rapids of hope to 
him, but of grief to his captor. With thumb on line, anx- 
iously calculating the last ounce it would bear, and with 
the but of his rod directed to the fish, reluctantly our ang- 
ler yielded inch after inch to his retreating prey. With 
disappointment and dismay we see him gradually approach 
the edge of the current, and give up all hope of breakfast- 
ing off him, Not so our friend Charles; he had been victor 
in many more desperate straits, and now, cool and calcula- 
ting in his judgment, while every nerve was tense with 
delicious excitement, he stood clamly weighing the chances, 
equal to either fortune, success or failure, He knew that 

if he increased his pressure on the line by another half 
ounce, one of two results was sure to follow, either the 
hook would be torn from the fish’s mouth, or some part of 
the tackle would be broken; in either case, good bye mon- 
arch; but, by judiciously yielding, there was still a chance 
of final success; so his eagle eye and steady, skillful hand 
were both on the alert, ready for what the exigencies of the 
q@ase might demand. The fish had now fairly won his way 
within three feet of the rapid, and most fishermen would 
have relinquished the last ,hope of turning him, but your > 
true angler never gives away a trick. Our friend Charles, 
guaging toa hair the strength of his tackle, kept on the 
pressure to the extreme point of safety, but in spite of cool- 
ness, skill, judgment and determination, he had met his 
match; while resisting to the utmost the prisoner’s efforts to 
escape, he admired his strength, endurance and persistent 
pluck, and smiled 
‘“With the stern joy that warriors feel 
In foemen worthy of their steel.” 
Inch by inch the noble fish fought his way—inch by inch 
the reluctant line slipped through the rings, the arch of the 
rod unbroken, ‘and the but following the fish—until at 
length he gained the rapid; with one wild plunge, anda 
triumphant wave of his broad tail, down he went! The 
short arch of the rod was instantly relieved, the line, left 
free, uncoiled from the whizzing reel, and ran through the 
rings like lightning, making that most exciting of all music, 
that none but an angler can appreciate. Down, down the 
rapid he shot like an arrow, until he reached the water be- 
low, when the weight of some fifty or sixty yards of line 
that he was towing, began to diminish his headlong career. 
Charles, still apparently cool and collected, but with the 
fire of intense excitement in his eye, had now his skill 
tried to the utmost, while our chance of breakfasting off 
that fish looked slim indeed. . f 
There must have been at least fifty yards of line run off 
in that splendid rush, and the monarch was now in his fam- 
iliar haunts, amid visible and invisible rocks, scattered 
thickly around. To exercise much control over him at 
that distance was impossible, and it became absolutely 
necessary to his capture, to turn his head up the stream, 
and so prevent him winding among the dangerous rocks, 
and perhaps cutting the line against their sharp angles and 
rugged edges. While the salmon is running from you on a 
long line, no control can be had over his movements, he 
goes where he pleases, and does as he chooses, but when 
heading toward you a skilful hand can guide him where he 
will. Hence our angler now directed his attention to turn- 
ing his fish, and reducing the distance that separated them. 
So, with hand again on line, and ‘‘ butting” him well, he 
bore with steady strain on the flying prisoner, held now 
by the slightest of bonds. Finding his progress impe- 
ded, and his strength impaired, the preplexed fish again 
throws himself out of the water in desperate efforts to 
break away. Cool, self-possessed and wary, the angler 
foils these cunning tricks, by depressing the tip of his rod, 
which takes off the strain, the moment the fish leaves the 
water, and elevating it again, which replaces the strain, 
the instant he touches it in his fall. Unsuccessful in his 
efforts, and still feeling the strain of the mysterious thread, 
the courageous fish rushes madly up stream, putting the 
skill and quickness of our friend to the severest test, for if 
the prisoner can only succeed in getting this inexorable 
strain off the line, he will probably dislodge the tempting 
sham that lured him to his fate. Elevating his rod, he 
winds in his line with a speed and steadiness that practice 
alone can give, and the startled fish, although going in the 
opposite direction, still feels the exasperating thread, that 
is now drawing him forward with as much force as it before 
drew him back. Utterly mystified, and unwilling to ap- 
proach the spot from which he had so recently and by such 
hard labor escaped, he goes to the bottom to rest and con- 
sider matters. 
Fishermen generally call this ‘‘sulking,” but our angler 
knows that the noble fish never szlks, never despairs, he 
merely takes a breathing spell, and is cogitating all the 
while, studying his next defensive movement, and aware 
that this will take the form of a succession of short, sharp 
jerks, to tear out the fatal lure—just as a brave man under- 
goes the pain of wrenching out the barbed arrow, knowing 
that present anguish is the price of future safety—our 
friend Charles takes this opportunity of getting to shore. 
With cautious step, for the ledge is slippery and the footing 
treacherous, with one eye on the last visible inch of his 
line and the other eyerywhere—“‘ feeling his fish” all the 
while, carefully letting out line as he recedes from the fish, 
and reeling it in as he approaches him, so that the same 
gentle strain shall never cease for an instant, he picks his’ 
way rapidly to shore, daring many a dangerous leap with 
the foot of faith. Once safe on shore, he breathes more 
freely, and feels increasing confidence as to the result, he 
walks steadily down-past the rapid, taking in line and feel- 
ing his fish, till he reaches the nearest point in a direct line 
to his resting captive. The imminent danger of defeat be- 
ing now over, our angler is quite as willing as his prisoner 
to rest awhile and wipe the perspiration from his brow. 
Our monarch had evidently a knotty problem to solve, 
and was doubtless meditating deeply on “‘the position ”’; 
were it not for the regular apd symmetrical arch of the 
tapering rod, we should not have known his whereabouts. 
Presently there came a succession of sharp, indignant jerks, 
then a relapse into quietness. Had these jerks been met by 
a straight rod, thus bringing the whole force on the hook, 
instead of on a yielding arch that gave to the slightest 
strain, the chances were ten to one that the captive’s object 
would have been gained, and the hook torn from its hold; 

but our angler had learned from experience that the mon- 
arch of the stream is most to be guarded against when most 
quiet, and was fully prepared to foil this maneuyre. Ac- 
cordingly the jerks were met by along and flexible arch, 
which offered so little resistance, that the efforts of the fish 
could only fatigue himself, and render his subsequent strug- 
gles less vigorous. Still, these vindictive jerks are not rel- 
ished by the angler, he knows they mean miéchief, and 
that they are liable at any moment to succeed—for who can 
tell how a salmon is hooked till he is fairly on shore? So, 
to avoid a repetition of these dangerous tricks, and to pre- 
vent him from recovering energy to repeat them, it became 
advisable to rouse him from his lair, keep him in motion, 
and exhaust his strength as soon as possible; for your old 
angler well knows that the chances of losing a fish increase © 
in a direct ratio to the square of the time he has been on 
the hook, as every rush, and every struggle, and the con- 
sequent strain on the hook, is weakening the integuments 
in which it is embedded, and wearing out the hold. Our 
friend knew all this, and felt himself master of the situa- 
tion. Avoiding that two common practice of attempting to _ 
rouse his fish by jerking on the line, thus doing, much 
more effectually, what the fish has been trying to do, he 
shortened the arch of ,his rod by pointing the but in the 
direction of the fish, thus increasing the steady pull on his 
prisoner, and causing him to set every muscle to resist the 
merciless strain; then drawing the hunting-knife from its 
sheath at his side, he gave a succession of smart raps upon 
the but of the rod, sending an electrical thrill down the 
tense line, so surprising and startling that, despite his cour- 
age and pluck, he fled amain, in a series of short, irregular, 
zigzag plunges, and once more headed down stream. 
Constant exertion and the incessant strain had evidently 
reduced his strength, and his career was now soon checked 
by a judicious use of the but; in addition to the weight of 
line he had to draw through the water, the shortened arch 
of the rod made it more difficult to uncoil the line from the 
reel, and he soon gave evidence of fatigue. Unable to con- 
tinue his course, he came to a halt, still resisting to the 
utmost the strain applied to turn him, and in the struggle 
to maintain his place we could see the glitter of his silver 
side—sure omen of success to the cautious angler. Toa 
steady, careful, persistent, yet gentle strain, he was forced 
to ‘‘give up the position,” slowly but surely the revolving 
reel shortened the distance between him and his relentless 
foe. The victory now seemed to us to be won, again. our 
mouths watered at the idea of our delicious breakfast, and 
we became impatient to see the full length of this brave 
but conquered hero. Not so Charles. Past - experience 
had taught him that in angling, more than in any other 
pursuit, there was ‘‘many slip ’twix cup and lip,” and that 
a salmon, especially, was never vanquished while he could 
wave his tail, more powerful in his death throes than in 
life. Carefully, but cautiously, he wound in the line, his 
eyes never leaving his approaching prize; gradually the 
distance diminished, the brave fish coming in sideways, 
until he was within ten yards of the shore. Our trusty 
canoe-man, George, was ready, gaff in hand, and only 
waited a nod from Charles to wade into the water and end 
the battle. The feeble struggles of the exhausted monarch 
told that the favorable moment was approaching, and the 
weary waving of his restless tail was the only indication 
that the brave old warrior was still alive. The expected 
nod was given, and George cautiously approached the ap- 
parently exhausted captive. Waiting till Charles, by dex- 
terous management, had brought the broad side of the 
fish directly in front of him, with gaff outstretched, ready 
to give: the final cowp, he made one step forward, but in 
his eagerness, placed his foot upon the round surface of a 
slippery stone, lost his balance, and in the instinctive move- 
ment to recover it, brought the gaff down with a splash 
within afoot of the quiet and unresisting fish. Quick as 
thought the apparently subdued prisoner darted up stream, 
making the rod bend and the reel fairly sing with the rapidity 
of its revolutions. With one glance of indignation at poor, 
crest-fallen George, our angler, who had never relaxed his 
care, even in the moment of assured victory, let the fish 
have his head, knowing that the strength of the current 
and the weight of the line would soon overcome this last 
effort of the courageous monarch. The result proved the 
correctness of his augury. Nobly the gallant fish held his 
way till at the very foot of the narrow channel near which 
he was hooked; he had now taken off the reel about thirty 
yards of line, and to draw this after him in the swift water 
of the rapid was too much for his exhausted strength. 
Poising himself amoment on the brink, he made an attempt 
to shoot the rapid, but being met by the opposing skill of his 
wary foe, who at this moment shortened the arch of his rod 
to its quickest curve, by pointing the but directly at him, 
he fell back, and was carried down by the current, When 
again brought to the surface, it was evident that fish nature 
could continue the combat no longer, and fairly exhausted 
by his last futile efforts to escape his fate, he turned his 
silver side to the sky and was quickly drawn in to the spot 
he had so lately left. Our friend Harry, who had watched 
the battle without a word, but with every feature eloquent 
with excitement, now seized the gaff, determined that no 
less worthy hand than his own should give the finishing stroke 
to this brave warrior, Wading within reach of the nearly 
lifeless fish, with sure and dexterous stroke he impaled him 
on the gaff, and walked ashore with the corpse of the gam- 
est fish that ever gladdened angler’s hearts or rewarded 
skill and coolness.” 
a ee Ne 

A large number of very fine green turtles nave just arrived 
at this port. 
