FOREST AND STREAM. 
195 
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WILL BLACK BASS TAKE A FLY. 
EDITOR OF Forest AnD STREAM:— 
I observe some discussion on this point in ForEstT anD 
STRELM. Over thirty years ago I was in the habit of taking 
the black bass in this way in western waters. I found, 
however, that it was only in rapid water that they could be 
taken by casting. In lakes and still rivers I trolled with 
three gaudy flies of a large size. In the Rock and the Fox 
rivers in northern Illinois and in a small stream in Wauke- 
sha County, in Wisconsin, called Back river, I have taken 
both the black bass and the rock bass by casting with 
bright colored flies. In the Calumet, a river twelve miles 
south of Chicago, which winds through extensive marshes 
of wild rice, I used to have great sport, trolling for bass 
and pickerel along the edge of the weeds. Thac was before 
the introduction of the spoon, and my favorite bait was a 
strip from the white belly of the dog-fish, (wma calva), 
which being as tough as leather, would resist the teeth of 
the pickerel. 
In July, 1841, two of us killed in that river in one day’s 
fishing, 110 bass and pickerel, weighing 250 lbs. My 
largest bass weighed six and three quarter pounds, and 
being taken on a fly rod, gave me great sport for ten or 
fifteen minutes. My largest pickerel was about eight 
pounds, though I have encountered them in that river of 
much larger size, and have repeatedly had twisted brass 
wire bitten off by them. Although this river has Lake 
Michigan for 4 reservoir, it has been depopulated by thirty 
years’ fishing and netting, and three years ago I fished it 
carefully for two half days, and only got half adozensmail 
pickerel and bass and two or three dog-fish. 
In 1840 I used to anchor a skiff a short distance up the 
north branch of the Chicago river, and catch a mess of 
black and rock bass there in a very short time. One day 
while fishing along side of a sunken wreck in that river 
with small frogs for bait, one of them escaped and swam to 
the wreck, and climbed upon a part of it which was above 
water. He had not sat there Jong when a black bass rose 
from under the wreck and lifting his head from the water 
picked off the frog and descended with him to the depths 
below. At the present time not even a dog-fish could live 
in those fetid waters. 

There is a fine "sheet of water in McHenry County, 
Illinois, which is known as the Crystal Lake. About 1840 
I visited it; there was then only one house near it, and there 
being no boat upon it I could not fish it. The next winter 
LI sent out a skiff upon the sled of the nearest inhabitant, 
and in July, 1841, my friend and I drove to the lake and 
had a day’s fishing. We trolled all round the lake, which 
is perhaps three miles long, and we killed fifty black bass, 
averaging three pounds each, two fine specimens of the 
northern pickerel of about five pounds each, and a half 
bushel of rock bass and perch—about 200 lbs. of fish. Now 
there is a village of 2,000 inhabitants on the banks of the 
lake, and a row of tall icehouses, from which the Chicago 
people cool their summer drink by the aid ofa branch rail- 
road to that fair city. | 
My greatest catch of bass in numbers, was made in April, 
1842, in the Fox river, near Ottawa. In company with 
Delano, mine host of the Fox River House, the greatest 
sportsman of that region, I went to a part of the river about 
four miles from the village. We brought home that even- 
ing over a hundred black bass, all of one size, about a 
pound weight, taken with a minnow. The next day we 
set out again, followed by half a dozen fishermen, who 
were anxious to learn where we caught the bass—but 
Delano drove out of town in an opposite direction and 
baffled his pursuers. We got rather more that day than 
the preceeding, but of the same size. When we returned 
that night with a wagon box full for the second time, half 
the men and boys of the village were waiting to see our fish, 
and the third morning they followed us so sharply that 
although we outdrove them and got to work on our old 
ground before they arrived, yet, they found us out, and a 
cavalcade of fishermen appeared, headed by the County 
Judge, who, if I mistake not, adjourned court to find out 
where ‘‘old Delano” caught his bass. Of course our fun 
was over, and we packed up our tackle and departed. Our 
score for the three days was nearly 400 bass, all of one size, 
and all taken with live minnows—and they would touch 
nothing else. 
te agree with your correspondents who believe that it 
would be a dangerous experiment to introduce the black 
bass into trout streams. I think itis as rapacious a fish as 
the pickerel, but more particular in its food. I have often 
found the bass would only take a live bait, paying no at- 
tention to a dead one; while I never observed that it made 
any difference to the pickerel; they would run at a piece of 
fish or pork as readily as at a live minnow. So, appreciat- 
ing the difference between a young trout and a shiner or 
chub, Mr. Bass would probably take the more delicate fish. 
The bass can hold their own against the pickerel. Before 
the waters in the West were much fished, we used to find 
the two species in about equal numbers; but of late years 
the bass being the more choice fish, are mcre pursued, and 
are soonest exhausted. In game quality, and long resist- 
ance to capture, I think the black bass is equal to any other 
fresh water fish—pound for pound. I think he is a harder 
fighter than the trout or salmon. 
The naturalists have so much the habit of re-naming our 
birds and fishes every few years that it is hard to keep up 
with their nomenclature, even if one knew which Professor 
was right. We used to know the black bass as Centrarchus 
fasciatus, following Cuvier and DeKay. Then Agassiz, I 
. name. 
think, named it Grystes nigricans; and now Professor Gill 
calls it Micropterus achigan; and presently some other 
icthyologist will hunt his Greek Lexicon for a still harder 
How are we simple anglers to decide when Doctors 
disagree? +e 
ogee 
[This question promises to become as interesting as the 
one respecting snakes swallowing their young. We pre- 
sume that after a little more testimony in the affirmative, 
doubters will surrender. Ep.] 
¢ 
71 Broapway, N. Y., Oct. 31. 
Eprror Forest anp STREAM:— : 
I see by your paper that some of your readers seem to 
doubt that “black bass” will take the fly. Ihave been in 
the habit of catching them many seasons in Canandaigua 
lake and outlet, and never took one in any other way than 
with a light trout rod and fly. They run from, say half 
a pound up to five and even six pounds, and as you can 
imagine, afford most exciting sport. 
The large ones are taken in the lake from a boat, and it 
is very exciting to play a three or four pound bass with 
light tackle. In casting it is necessary to allow the fly to 
sink about two feet under water and draw it gradually 
toward the boat. The season is from June 1st, until 
August ist. In the outlet, we wade and fish the same as 
for trout, using brighter flies. The season there lasts until 
October 1st. After August ist they retire to very deep 
water which is the reason they will uot take the fly in the 
lake. Yours truly, 
WAKEMAN HOLBERTON. 
———____$——~<+_____ 
*N NOVA SCOTIA. 
aes 
8 the season progresses, the waters surrounding this 
almost insular Province, lose their arctic chill, and 
the cool airs of early fall do not become charged with the 
dense fogs that so often at other seasons hide earth and 
sky from the eye of the tourist. Visited at this time of the 
year, when almost every variety of game is in full fur and 
feather, and many fish are still excellent, there is about the 
hunting camp, as tempting a section for rod or gun, and as 
satisfactory results for the cuisine as are to be found in any 
district that is as easily and rapidly reached. The Inter- 
colonial Railway now bears the sportsman and _ his impedi- 
nenta, by the head of the Bay of Fundy, under the shadows 
of the Cobequid Mountains, by many a charming vista of 
woodland, ponds, and streams suggestive of salmon, to Hali- 
fax, or by its branches to Pictou and Shediac, from which 
points steamers of safe size and reliable management con- 
vey tourists to many points in New Brunswick, where a 
coast swarming with waterfowl, rivers with fish, and forests 
abounding in game, offer at each season some peculiar 
temptation to the sporting tourist. 
From Halifax the all-rail route to Annapolis, reaches 
many points from which access to ‘‘The Forest Primeval” 
is easy and immediate; in the phraseology of the country, 
the stations are handy to the woods, while a good road 
renders a drive down the sea coast a most tempting excur- 
sion. This route alone passing between the spruce clothed 
highlands, with mountain scenery on one hand, and every 
variety of sea coast and estuary on the other, would require 
a separate letter to describe, with mention of the salmon 
rivers, the trout ponds, the seal ledges, and the broad surf- 
swept beaches of glistening sand, that are reached in 
pleasing variety. 
Delightful recollections come before us of days passed 
along this road, but let them remain, a valued companion- 
ship of agreeable associations, to be shared perchance with 
some of your readers who have lingered among the same at- 
tractions, while our wandering pen abandons its divergent 
ways, forafew bits of informal gossip about the trout 
lakes among the mountains. 
Landed in early September at Thompson’s Station, on 
the Intercolonial, with rod case, gun case, camp pails, and 
the paraphernalia that would not fit one for Saratoga or 
Cape May, we were delighted to have a fine, hearty man 
pointed out in response to the query, ‘‘ How will we get to 
Purdy’s ?” and to find our host himself, to our good luck, at 
the station. We surrendered ourselves to him, and care 
was atanend. His strong horse and wagon would carry 
us, but not our traps ; and could we leave our things, our 
carefully-chosen odds and ends; selected from half the 
sporting stores of New York and Boston? rods from 
Clerk, Conroy, and Bradford & Anthony ; guns from Read 
& Son’; lines and flies from every shop from Marquette to 
Enterprise ; and little inconveniences that had been made 
or bought with heart and mind full of the charming antici- 
pations that gather about one’s preparations for the wood- 
land camp? Could we leave them until the next day ? 
Not a bit of it; we must sleep with them under our pil- 
lows, like children with new toys. So said we to Purdy, 
while he replied, ‘‘All right,” believing there was not a 
charterable horse nearer than River Philip, but smiling 
with the confidence of one who reaches port with wind 
fair or foul. Just at this moment of uncertainty the rattle 
of a wagon was heard, and a conveyance halted at Purdy’s 
hail with a promptitude that endangered its surrounding 
framework, rope lines and general structure, and after a 
cherry salutation our host said, ‘‘Now, Ousped, turn 
around lively and take this luggage home for me.” ‘‘ Can’t 
do it, Mr. Purdy ; sorry, sir, but must sell my blackberries 
and a leg of mutton.” ‘‘ Just what I want,” replied Purdy, 
‘‘berry pies and mutton, just what I need. I will buy 
them, so turn around.” ‘‘ But, Mr. Purdy, I just want to 
do a bit of trading,” replied our half-willing recruit, as he 
fumbled in the straw that carpeted his wagon and finally 
developed a black bottle with a broken neck, ‘‘I just 
AS 
want this filled.” ‘‘Chuck it in the bushes,” responded 
Purdy with unfailing promptitude, ‘‘my cellar is full of 
better bottles, and you need not take home an empty one.” 
Cusped fondled the black bottle; evidently it was associated 
with some genial hours, but slowly his eye twinkled, and 
not wishing to be the only man who could resist Purdy’s 
rapid resource and winning tones, he carefully deposited 
the broken bottle ina bush, and soon our traps were 
loaded, hung and tied on his groaning conveyance, which 
said in many tones that another straw would break its ven- 
erable back, as Cusped seized his whip and strode by his 
horse, while we spun away behind as good a roadster as 
one often finds. 
Before us to the southward were the forest clad Cobequid 
Mountains, with a round, high dome crowning the pile, 
known as the ‘“‘Sugar Loaf,” the highest land in the pro- 
vince, and a landmark for many a mile of wilderness, 
guiding weary hunters from Moose Barrens to Caribou 
Plains even as fur east as Cobequid Bay, whence the eyes 
of the settlers of Grand Pie gazed upon it in the days of 
Evangeline. Our road, like the roads of almost all the 
province, was good, and all about were the characteristic 
features of the country that has so long furnished haunt 
and home for the noblest game of the continent. 
From a bridge just west of Thompson’s Station we 
looked down upon River Philip, a famous salmon and 
trout river; a superb stream, that is being ruined by the 
usual effectual means of badly-guarded mills, netting, 
spearing and fall fishing. Here and there on our way we 
passed streams that are still full of fair brook trout, 
and as we gained elevation our way was by the half mossy 
plains, with a low growth of dwarf shrubs, where moose 
and caribou are still seen, and these dreary expanses of 
grey, sullen looking land were bounded and broken by 
hardwood forests and full of fur-bearing game, and still 
sheltering many animals of value for their game nature, 
and fur-bearing character. As still greater elevation was 
reached the black spruce and balsam became frequent, giv- 
ing with their sombre color and pointed form a new aspect 
to the same, while as we approached the summits more and 
more extended rivers opened to the northward. Prince Ed- 
ward Island was visible, and the water about it like a ring 
of silver. The cool twilight found us still upon this up- 
ward road, but as the chill was forcing its way despite our 
wraps, and our eyes were becoming weary of tracing the 
strange outlines in the deepening gloom, we drove up to our 
ample homestead, and in a moment were toasting by a huge 
open fire, enjoying the snugness and comforts of ** Purdy’s.” 
All ramblers know how welcome is a hot supper and a rest 
under snowy counterpanes ; all of which were ours, with 
dreams of midwood ponds that may find realization in our 
next. Lewel: 
———$__—_—+-___—_ 
HEDGE HOG SHOOTING. 
4 

Epiror Forest AND STREAM :-— 
In the fall of 1861 I took a ramble over on the north side 
of Ossipee Mountain, for the purpose of having a little 
sport shooting hedge hogs. We left our home bright and 
early, and after a rough tramp of three miles arrived at the 
base of the south side of the mountain. The scramble up 
its side was toilsome in the extreme, over yawning preci- 
pices and broken granite slabs, which if near our large cities 
would be a mine of wealth for building purposes. Among 
these vast piles of broken granite the rattle snake makes his 
home, and after a long dull spell of weather they come out 
and lie on the rocks for the purpose of sunning themselves. 
We were so lucky as to miss seeing a single one, and 
arrived at the crowning peak. The trees were so thick we 
could not make the observations we wished, so we climbed 
to the top of an ancient spruce tree. What asplendid pan- 
oramic scene burst on the eye, one that well repays any one 
for the toils of the way. Hills and mountains, lakes and 
rivers were all around, and the forest foliage touched by the 
early frosts flamed out magnificently. After a long look 
we descended the north side, and as we progressed the trees 
grew larger, mostly spruce, and oh! what spruces, running 
up straight as a gun barrel to the height of eighty or 
ninety feet. Wesoon began to see indications of hedge 
hogs. The ‘‘quilling” of spruce trees seems to be their 
delight, if we could judge by the number of dead ones. 
As we stood listening to the chirping of the squirrels and 
drumming of the partridges, we heard something scratching 
up the side of a spruce, and turning round there was a 
hedge hog of large size standing on a limb looking down 
at us. We got arest for our rifle, and let her sliver; down 
he came with the top of his h.ad gone. I had barely 
loaded when I saw another. and popped him over, and I 
kept shooting as I descended the mountain, until my tally 
counted ten. J emerged from the forest into what is called 
the Perkins settlement, and it being nearly night, we 
directed our steps to the home of John Evans, and received 
a kindly welcome, and tarried over night. Evans said the 
hedge hogs had destroyed his crop of corn, and in the 
morning we took a look at it; it was all torn down. He 
said they came to his apple trees, climbed the trees, shook 
off the apples, then came down, rolled over on the apples 
and stuck them on their quills, and went for the wvods! 
We did not see a single porcupine on our tramp, though 
many say the hedge hog and porcupine are all one, but I 
consider there is a marked difference in size, color, weight, 
and food. On our return tramp we shot five more, making 
fifteen. When on the ground and tackled by an enemy, 
they roll themselves up like a ball, placing their tails up 
against their side, and when the dog or any animal comes 
up to smell of them they strike round their tails suddenly, 
filling whatever it hits with quills, which if not pulled out 
immediately will work through flesh, bones and all. 
J. L. Hersey, 
