The Sportsman’s Library.
The “_Live Stock Journal Almanac_”[1] for 1906 contains a great many
matters of interest. Sir Walter Gilbey’s article on “Farms and Small
Holdings as Affected by Enclosures, Markets and Fairs” is full of
information, and is particularly opportune in respect of the author’s
remarks on small holdings. It is made clear that the oft-urged plea for
the return of the excess urban population to rural pursuits cannot be
acceded to under existing conditions. It was right of common that made
the small holding possible in old days; and now that successive
enclosure acts have removed the facilities the small holder enjoyed for
pasturing his stock, the situation is radically altered.
Mr. G. S. Lowe contributes a very entertaining paper on “Horse Dealers
Past and Present,” a subject full of possibilities, and of which he
makes good use. Mr. C. J. Cornish deals with a topic that appeals to the
naturalist in “Animals’ Foster-Children”; he reviews numerous curious
cases of adoption, the strangest, perhaps, being the appropriation of
chickens by a cat; the reverse, a hen taking possession of kittens, has
also been recorded. All who wish to see betting placed on a sound and
intelligible footing will be glad to see that Sir Walter Gilbey is
heartily in favour of adopting the _pari mutuel_, or totaliser system,
in this country; he makes out a strong case for it in “How Betting
should Aid Agriculture.” The advantages of the system are so manifest
that it is strange we should not have accepted it in England long since.
Mr. C. B. Pitman, as usual, writes on “Thoroughbreds in 1905,” reviewing
the performances of the more conspicuous horses of the season, the sales
at Newmarket and Doncaster, and the show of the Royal Commission. Mr.
Scarth Dixon writes on Cleveland bays and Yorkshire coach horses, and
“E.” considers the Hackney: we notice that he regards the classes of
Hackneys at the Royal this year as much above the average. The
pony-breeding industry continues to make progress. Breeders of ponies
for polo—all interested in the game—should read Mr. John Hill’s
informing article on “Ponies in 1905.” In “Show Hunters of the Year” the
successes of various studs and individual horses are reviewed; a
portrait of Mr. Stokes’ gelding, Whiskey, accompanies the article. Mr.
Vero Shaw deals with “Harness Horses”; old favourites, as he observes,
have been mostly to the fore during the year. Passing over the very
instructive articles on the heavy breeds of horses, we come to an essay
by Mr. Harold Leeney, M.R.C.V.S., on “Brain Diseases in Animals,” an
obscure subject to the lay reader. Mr. Leeney, however, tells us that
the veterinary practitioner has to deal with a good many cases of brain
and spinal cord trouble among domestic animals. Mr. C. Stein contributes
an interesting article on “The Jersey Cow at Home,” while Mr. John
Thornton’s comprehensive review of Shorthorns in 1905 is full of
interest as usual. All the more notable varieties of cattle and sheep
are dealt with in turn by acknowledged experts, but space forbids us to
glance at the contents of these essays. Mr. F. Gresham must be thanked
for his article on the “Working Spaniel,” directly and closely appealing
to sportsmen who have ever used spaniels. Mr. Tegetmeier’s article on
“The Management of Farmyard Poultry” contains many practical and useful
hints.
Admirably illustrated and full of items of information indispensable to
the dweller in the country, the _Almanac_ seems to us to be more
complete than ever this year.
We have received Part V. of “George Fothergill’s Sketch Book,” a work by
this time well known to sportsmen who can appreciate clever drawings of
hunting subjects, as well as to a wider circle of readers and
picture-lovers. A coloured portrait of Mr. George Rimington, eldest
brother of the soldier who made such a reputation in South Africa, forms
the leading feature: it is faced by “Gone Away,” a set of hunting verses
which possess spirit, rhythm and swing, recalling “We’ll all go
a-hunting to-day.” The majority of the pages are occupied by sketches of
Haughton le Skerne in co. Durham and its environs. The career of William
Bewick, the artist-naturalist, furnishes Dr. Fothergill with subject
matter for an interesting biographical sketch.
Thomas’ _Hunting Diary_, edited by Messrs. W. May and A. Coaten, and
published at the _County Gentleman and Land and Water_ office, grows
larger and more complete every season. Mr. A. E. Burnaby contributes a
good article on “The Art of Riding to Hounds.” Mr. Richard Ord has some
very judicious observations to make on “The Duty of the Foxhunter
towards the Farmer.” “Maintop,” the pseudonym adopted by a well-known
Irish sportsman and writer, discusses “Knowledge of Hounds” in a
particularly practical spirit, and incidentally touches lightly but
firmly on the “sins of some ladies” in the hunting field. Then we have
some chapters on hunting clothes and their care, and some informing
pages concerning the packs of foxhounds abroad. It will perhaps surprise
some readers to learn that foxhunting exists in nearly every British
Colony.
_Gale’s Almanac_, published at 12, St. Bride Street, E.C., is full of
information indispensable to racing men and to athletes, containing, as
it does, a mine of facts relating to the turf, to cricket, football,
billiards, athletics, rowing, lawn tennis, boxing and swimming. Racing
occupies the bulk of the _Almanac_, and the information bearing on
horses, their performances, form and prospects, is well worth careful
study. The “Racing Facts” in particular appeal to us. The _Almanac_ is
well illustrated with portraits of owners, trainers, jockeys and horses
of note.
The ever-welcome _Badminton Diary_, published at 43, Dover Street, W.,
makes its appearance this season in a new cover, which makes it look
somewhat larger than the handy friend now so familiar. The new issue
contains several new features, chiefly appealing to the motorist and
polo player: the former will find a “motor trip register,” a list of
motor records, motor road signs and identification marks. The lists of
polo clubs, fixtures and records are also new.
It is interesting to see how fully those to whom is entrusted the
development of our colonies are realising the value of game as an
attraction to settlers of the most desirable stamp. We have received
from the Agent-General of British Columbia a beautifully illustrated
pamphlet which contains full particulars of the game, beast, bird and
fish of that colony, with much helpful advice as to ways and means. The
vast areas of virgin country offer great choice of game to the shooting
man: three species of bear, four species of mountain sheep; also wapiti,
caribou and deer. Various species of grouse, wildfowl and snipe are
abundant, while every stream and lake offers salmon or trout-fishing, or
both.
In Pursuit of the Pike.
If anybody had the requisite industry to compile a history of modern
pike-fishing, it would be found that 1905 would stand out very
prominently in at least two respects. In the first place, it has been a
remarkable year for the number of heavy specimen fish caught by honest
angling with rod and line; and in the second place, the year has been
noteworthy for the number of curious stories which have appeared in the
sporting prints dealing with what is commonly called the “voracity” of
the pike. I have no wish to make this article a mere epitome of the
angling reports which appear week by week in the various fishing
journals, but as I have for many years past compiled a diary of all
important catches, I am entitled to say that 1905 was a specially
interesting year in the matter of big pike hooked and landed. This last
reservation is needed, for we all hook, but very rarely land, the
biggest fish in the waters wherein we angle. For instance, it has been
my own ambition for years to catch a 20 lb. pike, and I have spent
months and months at the water side in its vain pursuit; yet nothing
bigger than a ten-pounder has ever fallen to my lot, while I have had
the grim pleasure of seeing comparative novices hook and carry away with
unconcern fish I myself would almost have given an ear to have played on
my own rod. Yet I verily believe _I_ have hooked fish of specimen size.
Thus, I have an old spoon bait which is not merely indented with
numberless teeth marks, but is even jagged and torn as though it had
been placed in a vice and then wrenched. It was no ten-pounder which did
that! But this and all other similar phantom fish are for the moment
excluded from our chronicles. We will deal only with pike whose capture
and weight are completely verified.
To deal with big pike is to open the door for the weaver of fishing
yarns. A good deal of misconception exists as to the weight of pike.
There is a boatman on Windermere Lake who tells you, and possibly
believes it, that he knows of a pike at the southern end of the lake
which must be 50 or 60 lb. weight. He has seen it! He will tell you how
it pulls ducks beneath the water, how it takes a spinning bait and
crumples rod and line ere it breaks everything before it, and he will
solemnly warn novices not to allow themselves to be pulled out of their
boat by this insatiable monster. All this is moonshine. The Lake
district is favourable to the growth of big pike. Lakes ten, eight and
six miles long, swarming with trout and perch, offer exceptional
facilities for pike, yet very big fish are rarely caught. For many years
past I have only heard of one twenty-pounder, though all the lakes are
keenly fished. The record is a pike of 34 lb., caught in Bassenthwaite
in 1861, on a spinning bait. The fact is that only few pike reach 20
lb., and fish over that weight, when caught, should be celebrated by a
dinner and a fitting glass case. No, the modern pike is not the creature
of our youthful imagination. I make it a point to verify all reported
fish of over 20 lb., and it is curious how, after a few letters, these
monster fish dwindle away. Thus, a 39 lb. pike from Ireland, reported in
_The Field_ and _Fishing Gazette_ in 1904, turned out to be a
twenty-eight-pounder when my inquiries were completed. All the apology
offered by the correspondent for this most sinful deception was that it
was a “mistake.” Then what is the biggest pike of which we have any
record caught by angling? The honour belongs to Ireland. A pike was
caught there in 1900, and sent to the _Fishing Gazette_ Office, and it
was made clear beyond doubt that it weighed 40½ lb. But the fish was
caught in the spawning season, was heavy with several pounds of spawn,
and in normal conditions would probably not have weighed more than about
35 lb. The fish next to this should really come before it, for it was
caught in the early part of this year, in the winter, was free from
spawn, and every ounce of it seems to be honest weight. It was caught in
Lough Mask by a water bailiff named Connor, and its weight was verified
by railway officials who saw it weighed, as well as by Williams and Son,
the Dublin naturalists, to whom it was sent for preservation. It weighed
38 lb. Unhappily, we are not so clear as to the method of its capture. I
wrote to Williams and Son, and received a letter back in which they
lamented its inglorious end. They told me it was netted. I published
this letter in the _Fishing Gazette_, when lo, the Rev. Mr. Curran wrote
and denied it, and affirmed most positively that Connor caught it by
fair fishing, on a rod and line, with a Blue Phantom as bait. Coming a
little lower in the scale, there is no doubt at all about the next best
fish to this monster from the Mask. The honour of catching the record
English pike belongs to Mr. Alfred Jardine, who in 1879 caught one in a
private water of the weight of 37 lb. He had already previously captured
one of 36 lb. Since then that record has only twice been beaten by the
two Irish pike mentioned above, and, as I have shown, one of them should
be disqualified by reason of being with spawn, and the other is still
invested with mystery as to the method of its capture. If we admit
gaffed or netted fish into our chronicles we must enlarge our figures,
for netting and gaffing are purposely carried on when the fish work into
the shallows to deposit their spawn, and they naturally reach heavier
weights then than at other times. There are authentic records of fish
over 40 lb. thus caught.
In the early part of 1905, Major Mainwaring verified in _The Field_, two
pike gaffed in Lough Mask—one 42 lb., the other 48 lb.; the latter had
just spawned; otherwise, as the Major wrote, it might very easily have
brought down the scale at 60 lb. Then there is a record of a pike
weighing 61 lb. being caught in the River Bann in Ireland, in 1894,
measuring over four feet, and containing over 7 lb. of spawn; and we
have English records, mainly from the Norfolk Broads and the
Lincolnshire Fens, of pike netted during the spawning period and
weighing full 40 lb. We are face to face with the fact, therefore, that
we can verify the capture of a pike 37 lb. by an English angler, and
that by netting or gaffing, pike up to 60 lb. or thereabouts have been
taken out of Irish waters.
It is necessary that these figures should be stated, because they are
useful as a standard to compare the pike caught in the early months of
1905. The record for the season weighed 33½ lb. Quite a number over 30
lb. were caught, more so than for a number of years past. But, to my
mind, the two facts of greatest importance which emerge from a study of
my pike records are these: first, that February is the very best month
of the year for catching pike; and second, that spinning is the
deadliest method. Take the first of these propositions. In February last
Mr. Oliver Procter and two friends had a day’s pike fishing on a private
water in Nottinghamshire. The name of the place was not given, but
internal evidence in their narrative tells me that it was the private
lake at Clumber, the Duke of Newcastle’s place. In one day these three
rods caught, by spinning, fifty-six pike, weighing 468½ lb. The best
fish weighed 31 lb. and the smallest was actually 6 lb. One rod got 32
fish, weighing 275 lb.; another rod had 17 fish, weighing 119½ lb.; the
other rod, Mr. Procter himself, had seven fish, weighing 74 lb. The
latter average is very high, but it included the best fish of the day,
the 31-pounder. As each rod could only keep three fish, all the rest
were safely returned to the water. I have asked the reader to note that
this was a February catch and that they were caught spinning. A few days
later, in the same month, three Nottingham anglers had a day on this
same water. By spinning they accounted for 52 pike, weighing 425 lb. The
heaviest was 33½ lb., was the record pike of the year, and was caught by
Mr. F. W. K. Wallis, of Nottingham. I have not yet done with February,
nor with spinning. In the same month two Wolverhampton anglers, one of
them a clergyman, fishing a water not named, caught 52 pike between
them, all by spinning. The total weight was not recorded, but they gave
away over 2 cwt. to the deserving poor of Wolverhampton. Another
February case was that of Mr. R. C. H. Corfe and Mr. M. R. L. White, of
the Fly Fishers’ Club. Spinning, they caught 55 pike in a day’s angling.
The largest was only 18½ lb., but they touched bigger fish, for as they
were landing a four-pounder it was wrenched off the hooks and carried
away by a pike which Mr. White estimated at 30 lb. or thereabouts. They
were all caught by spinning dace or sprats on an Abbey Mills spinner.
Again, in that same February, a college student reported to _The Field_
how, in two hours’ spinning, during a snow-storm, using a silver Devon
on the Wye near Hereford, he caught four pike, 27½ lb., 15 lb., 8 lb.
and 6 lb. These records, all from 1905, surely establish February’s
claim to rank as the premier pike month of the year. Going further back,
I find that other years substantiate this claim. Mr. Jardine, in his
book on pike-fishing, gives a list of sixty record fish, and thirty of
them belong to the end of January and the month of February.
There can be no doubt, therefore, that the angler who defers his pike
fishing till the winter is nearing the end has the root of the matter in
him. There are some waters in Lincolnshire, the home of big pike, where
you are not thanked to go a-fishing till near the Christmas holidays.
The old couplet about winter “driving into madness every plunging pike”
was founded upon very close observation. The dying away of weeds and the
consequent loss of shelter to the pike, and the hibernation of the small
fish upon which he preys, added to the frost, give him a keen appetite,
and it is then that the angler has his best chance, for, after all, you
are likelier to catch any fish when he is hungry than when he is lazy
and fat and has no need to bestir himself to find a meal. This very
naturally brings me to the second of my propositions, that spinning is
in winter the deadliest method of capturing pike. In the early autumn
live-baiting and paternostering are, to my thinking, the more effective.
The pike is then in his lair. He is lying up in his weed bed, grimly
watching all that goes on in the watery world outside. You take your
live bait, either on float-tackle or on a paternoster, and you drop it
right in front of his nose; and he is a very sulky pike indeed who
allows it to pass him by without a protest. If you are spinning you may
cover acres of water and never have the luck to get near enough to him
to attract his attention, but in winter the conditions are altogether
different. Cold and hunger have driven him out of his summer fastnesses.
He is roaming hither and thither in search of food. Every faculty is on
the alert, and woe betide the hapless creature that comes within the
range of his vision. It matters not whether it is a rat swimming across
to his hole on the opposite bank, a dab-chick aimlessly swimming about,
a water-hen or a duckling, it is all the same to Master Pike. What more
natural, therefore, that a well-spun bait drawn across his very eyes
should in a moment rouse him to anger? All the records I have already
given were the result of spinning. Now in the Badminton volume on Pike
Mr. Pennell, who is a confirmed pike-spinner, rather suggests that the
biggest pike are generally caught with live-bait and not by spinning.
True, Mr. Jardine’s 37-pounder was on live-bait, but the Irish
38-pounder, according to my clerical correspondent, was on a spinner.
This year’s record, a 33½ pounder, was on a spinner, and so was Mr.
Procter’s best fish, a 31-pounder. The record of 1903, a 34-lb. pike
taken in the Wye, was caught by spinning a dace on Abbey tackle, and in
February, it may be added. That same year Canon Dyke, of Ashford, Kent,
wrote to _The Field_, saying that spinning had always brought him good
results. He instanced several pike up to 28 lb. he himself had caught
while spinning. More conclusive than this, however, was a remarkable
diary published in _The Field_ in 1903. In 204 days’ fishing the diarist
caught 1,665 pike, an average of about eight fish per day. The gross
weight was 2 tons 10 cwt. 62 lb., and it works out at an average of
nearly 3½ lb. per fish; but the most striking thing about the record is
this, that all were caught by spinning. About a dozen were taken on a
spoon, the remainder fell victims to spinning a five-inch dace. The
moral of this is obvious. If you want to catch large pike and many of
them, you must spin. If you merely want an isolated fish, if you set
your mind on some monster whom you know to inhabit a certain hole, you
may adopt the method of the dry-fly man and stalk him with a lively
roach of ½ lb. weight, but if you are in earnest and wish to make a big
bag, you most assuredly will have to arm yourself with plenty of
spinning tackle. I can give instances without end of good pike which
have fallen to the spinner. Here are a recent few at random: a
27-pounder, 1903, from the Irish Blackwater, caught by spinning a trout;
a 34½-pounder, caught with a spoon, by a Bolton angler, in 1903, at
Lochmaben, near Dumfries, and so on. And here are other fine records to
the credit of the spinner. In September, 1903, two members of the
Palmerston Angling Society, fishing two days in a Cambridgeshire water,
landed 127 pike, all of them falling to pickled sprats and dace.
Then there is a remarkable catch by Mr. F. Shroeder, a York angler, who,
fishing Hornsea Mere, near Hull, in 1902, caught 65 pike in a day,
weighing 348 lb. The heaviest was 13½ lb. Another day Mr. Shroeder tells
me he caught ten pike in the same water before breakfast, weighing 110
lb., including a 23-pounder and a 20-pounder. I asked Mr. Shroeder how
he got them, and his reply is, in the morning by spinning a dead bait on
an ordinary flight, and in the afternoon by live-baiting, but
principally by spinning. I have just tracked another remarkable catch to
the credit of the spinner. Mr. Albert Shlor, of Worksop, wrote in
October this year to the fishing papers, stating that he had just caught
twenty-one pike, in a private lake, in five and a half hours, of a total
weight of over 149 lb., the heaviest being 13 lb. 11 oz. I wrote to Mr.
Shlor, and he tells me he caught them all by spinning. Fifteen were
taken on a Colorado spoon. Then he put on a dead gudgeon, on an ordinary
flight made by himself, and having no flanges or spinning arrangement,
the spin being obtained, as in Mr. Shroeder’s case just mentioned, by
bending the tail of the fish. Well, out of seven runs with this tackle
Mr. Shlor, who is only twenty years of age, landed six pike. That is
something like fishing, and it is something like spinning. For, as Mr.
Shlor tells me, his brother, who was fishing with him and using live
bait, only landed two fish, and only had three runs altogether! But if
this is not enough, Mr. White, of the Fly Fishers’ Club, says in a
letter that he has frequently had up to forty-five pike to his own rod
in a single day by spinning, and once, in company with another, they
took seventy-five in a day’s spinning, though they “shook off,” all
under about 10 lb. or so. Had they retained all, their total would have
been fully 100 pike for the day. And while this is in the printer’s
hands, I have a letter from Mr. O. Overbeck, of Grimsby, the champion
carp fisher, who tells me that it was spinning dead roach that he
caught, at Clumber in 1903, thirty-one pike in four hours, of a total
weight of 187½ lb.
Now, if spinning is the deadliest method, it is a fair question to
inquire which particular form of spinner holds the field for the best
results. Every pike angler has his favourite lure. Personally, I find
the spoon the most effective. In an article in _The Field_ once I gave
the tabulated results of my season’s pike fishing. I used two artificial
baits, a Kill-devil Devon and a common spoon, and pickled dace on an
Archer spinner. The spoon easily came first, then the Kill-devil. I
obtained the worst results with the natural bait, but the local
conditions and personal preference count in this vexed question. For
instance, in the Lake district a spoon is always the most effective.
Pike there feed on perch every day of their lives. There is nothing
tempting or novel to them in the sight of a spinning perch. Put a spoon
on, or a Phantom, and you will be into good fish almost immediately.
There is even room for taste in spoons. You may fish half a day on
Esthwaite Lake with a plated spoon and never touch a fish. Change it for
a Norwich spoon, on which is painted the head and eye of a fish, and you
may catch half-a-dozen good pike in the hour. Who shall account for
this? There are other waters where the spoon is never looked at by a
fish. You must have real fish for bait, or you will do nothing at all.
My own observation leads me to this conclusion, that in the North of
England the spoon is the best lure; in the Midlands and the South
natural fish have the advantage as bait. Finally, a word as to size. It
seems to me that in spinning for pike the very reverse holds good to the
ascertained facts of live-baiting. In the latter form of fishing you
must have large baits to catch large fish. Mr. Jardine’s 37-pounder was
caught with a ½-lb. roach. Some anglers—Mr. Pennell is one—use and
recommend jack up to 2 lb. as lively bait for their big brothers and
parents, but in spinning you must use a small bait. If it is a spoon, or
an imitation fish, anything over three inches and a half is a waste of
money and a menace to good results. Pickled dace or roach should never
exceed five inches. Mr. M. R. L. White has often emphasised this point.
He says he has many times turned a bad day into a good one by changing
to the smallest bait he had, and he tells of one occasion where,
obstinately sticking to big bait, he hardly got a fish, while his
friend, fishing the same water with him, but using smaller bait, landed
thirty-five. A correspondent in the _Fishing Gazette_ last year drew
attention to the fact that the three largest pike which had come under
his personal notice were taken on small baits, one of 38 lb. on a spoon
only an inch and a half long; another of 32½ lb. on a roach of three and
a half inches, and a third of 30 lb., also on a very small roach. I am
entitled to claim, therefore, that this rapid survey of some recent
records of pike fishing demonstrates three facts which are worth
remembering: that February or thereabouts is the best time to catch
pike, that spinning is the deadliest method, and that a small spinner,
whether natural or artificial, has undoubtedly all the advantages on its
side.
It is with some diffidence that I approach the second half of my
subject. For years the angling humorist has poked fun at what the
newspapers all agree in terming the “voracity” of the pike. Let me say
at the outset that the reader will find nothing here of that pike which
chased an angler round a three-acre field in a snow-storm; nor of that
other pike which leaped out of the water, seized the angler’s pannier
and made off with its contents; nor of that other which, when an
unfortunate rodsman fell into the river, kindly took him in his mouth
and gently conveyed him to the bank again. The recital of these yarns
must be sought for elsewhere. Still, I cannot help recalling the capital
story told by Lord Claud Hamilton at the last dinner of the Fly Fishers’
Club. An Irishman had caught a big pike. Noting a lump in its stomach,
he cut it open. “As I cut it open there was a mighty rush and a flapping
of wings, and away flew a wild duck; and, begorra, when I looked inside,
there was a nest with four eggs, and she had been after sitting on that
nest.” The pike has always been fair game for the yarn-spinner, and some
of the very best of his products have naturally come from Ireland. The
most curious story of 1905 hailed from Pickering, in Yorkshire. Dr.
Robertson, of that town, is its author. He tells how he was sent for by
a farmer friend to see his son, who, so ran the message, had been bitten
by a fish. On arrival, the doctor found that the lad’s foot bore
unmistakable marks of teeth, and the wound was so severe it required
stitching. The lad’s story was that he had been bathing. After leaving
the river he sat on the edge of the bank, with his foot near the water,
and while there a pike jumped up and bit him. His cries attracted a
woman, who bound his foot up and assisted him home. To complete the
story, a local angler was shown the spot, and on casting over it with a
spinning bait he hooked and caught a 6 lb. pike. Now, there is nothing
improbable in this, though a good deal of unkind fun was poked at Dr.
Robertson. But the doctor was responsible for nothing beyond telling the
tale; and remember, he had seen the lad and stitched up the wound, he
had seen the woman who had carried him home, and he had seen the angler
who subsequently caught a pike at the very spot. What we know of the
propensities of the pike is sufficient to make us believe anything which
throws light upon the ferocity of his nature. Most anglers have had
their hands gashed by the snapping brutes during the operation of
releasing tackle on waters where most of the fish have to be returned. I
have seen an oar deeply bitten by a 10 lb. pike; and one of my heavy
fishing boots has marks on the heel where a small pike once caught on
like grim death. Indeed, my companion had to kick him loose. For my own
part, I believe Dr. Robertson’s story. He had no motive to embellish it,
and there were so many parties to it that exaggeration would sooner or
later have been discovered. As it is, the incident is a striking
corroboration of the remarkable stories collected by Mr. Pennell in the
Badminton volume on Pike.
Now, the orthodox stories of pike “voracity” divide themselves into two
clearly-defined sections. The first of these is concerned with its
gluttonous appetite—its onslaught on smaller fish, its appetite for
rats, ducks and kindred morsels. I have collected some thousands of
these incidents. But why reproduce them? We all know that the pike has a
fearful appetite, that his swallowing powers are enormous, and that
sometimes, to use an expressive Americanism, he bites off more than he
can chew. Thus, we read of a 3½ lb. pike choked trying to swallow a 1¼
lb. trout; of a 9 lb. pike containing a 1½ lb. perch; of a 28 lb. pike
containing a 6 lb. grilse; of a 2 lb. pike taking a spoon when he was so
full that the tail of a pound trout was protruding from his mouth; of an
Irish pike of 3½ lb. containing a trout of 1¼ lb.; and of others
containing ducks, rats, waterhens, and even stoats. The plain fact is,
of course, that the pike is a creature of prey, and like all creatures
of prey, he is savage and implacable. He eats till he is full, and even
then he takes good care not to refuse any tempting morsel which comes
within range of his fearful jaws. His destructiveness can hardly be
estimated in figures. If he eats his own weight per week, which is
surely under the estimate, he requires a fish colony for his own table
purposes alone.
A pike of 25 lb. was this season netted in the Lune, a first-class
northern trout-stream. By his look he was an old fish, and he was well
fed. How many tons of trout had he got through in his long lifetime? It
is bad enough when they confine themselves to big fish, but when they
get among the fry it is even worse, for they are destroying the very
sources of a stream’s productiveness. And, alas, they have a liking for
young and tender fish, as the keepers of our best waters know to their
cost. Last year a pike of 4 lb. 11 oz. was caught by a Birmingham
angler, and on opening it at the clubhouse its stomach was found to
contain no fewer than 274 small fish of an inch to an inch and a half
long, the fry of roach and bream. No wonder that in trout and salmon
waters the pike is regarded as a pest and is kept down by every method
the wit of the harassed keeper can devise.
To my mind, the most interesting pike stories are those which centre
round its capture. What must Mr. White’s feelings have been like when
his 4 lb. pike was snatched off the hooks and carried away by a
30-pounder just as he was about to gaff it? Or that of the angler in
Tyrone, who, reeling in an 8 lb. pike, had it attacked by a much larger
pike, which, though it could not pull the fish off the hooks, scored it
with wounds five inches long, and half an inch deep.
Most of us have had similar experiences, if on a small scale. In a trout
stream where pike abound, it is a common thing to lose your trout just
at the supreme moment through a pike thinking he has a greater right to
him than you have. But it is not often that the angler is so fortunate
as was a correspondent who wrote to the _Fishing Gazette_. His 2 lb.
trout was seized by a 5 lb. pike. The pike held on while the angler
reeled in towards the boat; then the attendant slipped his net beneath
them and landed the pair. Thus was piracy adequately punished.
Sometimes, ignoring the bait, a pike will seize the float or the lead,
and his teeth becoming entangled in the line he will be landed.
Once an account appeared in _The Field_ of a good-sized pike caught in a
most remarkable fashion. A net of fish as bait was hanging over the side
of a boat. A pike attacked these fish, and becoming involved in the mesh
was drawn aboard and killed. I think there can be no reasonable doubt
about the fact that pike do not feel pain. Else why do they repeatedly
go for the same bait? I was once minnowing for trout and hooked a big
pike. He broke me and sailed away with a yard of gut, to say nothing of
three triangles somewhere about his jaws. I put on another minnow and
resumed fishing. Two or three times that pike followed my bait to a yard
of the side, irresolute. At last he took it. He was more than I could
manage, and again he broke me, and again he sailed off with minnow,
hooks, and half my cast. He had now two minnow tackles about him,
representing six triangles, or eighteen hooks in all, and if they caused
no pain they at least must have produced discomfort. But note what
happened. In my bag I found by accident I had put in an old spoon on
gimp. I put this on my trout line and cast again. Would it be believed,
that pike came once more and took my spoon. Surely, thought I, he is
mine this time. I played him ten minutes and then drew him to the side,
but somehow, my line fouled and we parted company, myself minus a spoon
and triangles. Altogether that pike had twenty-four hooks of mine in his
possession. I returned next day with a pike rod and tackle, but he had
had enough. Now, although this is an extreme case, it is almost
paralleled by other experiences. An angler last season on Frensham Pond,
Surrey, using two rods, hooked a pike and lost it on one tackle, the
line breaking. Within five minutes the same pike took the other bait and
was landed on the other rod, with the first tackle securely fixed in his
jaws. A very curious instance was reported from the Thames. In March,
1903, a Mr. Wilton hooked a pike which broke away and took his Archer
spinner with him. On February 28th, 1904, eleven months later, Mr.
Wilton and his nephew were fishing in the same spot. The nephew hooked a
pike, and, on taking it out of the water, Mr. Wilton’s spinner was found
in his lower jaw. There was no doubt about it being the same spinner, as
Brookes, the fisherman to the Guards Club at Maidenhead, supplied it and
was there when it was recovered, and identified it by his wrappings. The
lapse of a year had dulled the pike’s memory of the earlier encounter,
but there are innumerable instances of pike going for bait twice within
a few minutes. Thus a Thames reporter tells how a trout spinner, in
March, 1905, saw his bait taken and his line broken by a pike. He put on
another bait and tackle. At the very first cast he hooked and landed the
same pike, and thus recovered intact his first flight. Obviously the
fish had felt neither pain nor discomfort from his first experience,
otherwise he would never have been rash enough to repeat it five minutes
later. One other similar instance out of many. In August of this year an
angler caught a pike of about a pound in the Medway. He put it back, but
first cut off part of one of its fins to test its rate of growth if ever
it were caught again. Then he baited again, and in less than a quarter
of an hour caught that identical pike a second time. So I might go on
telling of pike that have gone for two baits at once and been hauled in
by a couple of rods simultaneously; of pike that—but hold, enough!
Surely I have fulfilled the purpose with which I set out, and that was
to demonstrate the interest and excitement of winter pike-fishing, and
to show that no branch of the angler’s art is more surrounded by
incident and anecdote than the quest and capture of the king of all the
coarse fish.