DEDICATED
TO
THE LADY KATHERINE HARDY.
[Illustration: A WOODLAND STREAM.]
CHATS ON ANGLING.
BY
CAPTAIN H. V. HART-DAVIS,
Author of "Stalking Sketches."
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR.
LONDON:
HORACE COX,
WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM'S BUILDINGS, E.C.
1906.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM'S BUILDINGS, E.C.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
A WOODLAND STREAM _Frontispiece._
WAITING FOR A RISE _Facing page_ 5
BRINGING HIM DOWN TO THE NET " 25
THE SEDGE HOUR " 35
A DRY FLY DAY ON LOCH ARD " 47
LUNCHEON " 61
NEARING THE END " 72
GET THE GAFF READY " 79
HE MEANS GOING DOWN " 88
THE FALL'S POOL " 101
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY _page_ 1
CHAPTER I.
IN PRAISE OF THE DRY FLY " 3
CHAPTER II.
DRY FLY TACKLE AND EQUIPMENT " 7
CHAPTER III.
DRY FLY MAXIMS " 13
CHAPTER IV.
EDUCATION OF THE SOUTH COUNTRY TROUT " 23
CHAPTER V.
THE MAY FLY " 27
CHAPTER VI.
THE EVENING RISE " 33
CHAPTER VII.
"JACK" " 37
CHAPTER VIII.
WEED CUTTING " 40
CHAPTER IX.
THE ANGLER AND AMBIDEXTERITY " 43
CHAPTER X.
LOCH FISHING " 46
CHAPTER XI.
DAPPING FOR TROUT " 53
CHAPTER XII.
GRAYLING FISHING " 57
CHAPTER XIII.
NOTES ON RAINBOW TROUT " 61
CHAPTER XIV.
SALMON FISHING " 66
CHAPTER XV.
A TRIP TO IRELAND " 79
CHAPTER XVI.
SALMON AND FLIES " 86
CHAPTER XVII.
SALMON OF THE AWE " 91
CHAPTER XVIII.
DISAPPOINTING DAYS " 97
CHAPTER XIX.
SEA TROUT FISHING AND ITS CHANCES " 106
L'ENVOI " 113
CHATS ON ANGLING
INTRODUCTORY.
TO those who love angling, with all its associations and surroundings,
no apology may be needed for inflicting on them in book form certain
short articles which have mainly appeared in the columns of the
_Field_. They are "Chats" rather than didactic deliverances, and are
offered in the belief that much will be forgiven to a brother angler,
since all that pertains to the beloved pastime has some interest, and
the experiences of the poorest writer that ever recorded his views and
fancies may haply strike some responsive note.
But to the outside world, to those who care nought for all we hold
so dear, to those who would rank all fishermen as fools, and would
classify them as Dr. Johnson was said to have done--to such these notes
cannot appeal; they will regard them, not unnaturally perhaps, as yet
one more addition, of a desultory kind, to an already overladen subject.
No form of sport has so enduring a charm to its votaries as angling.
Its praises have been sung for centuries, from Dame Julia Berners
to the present day. Once an angler, always an angler; years roll by
only to increase the fervour of our devotion. It is a quiet, simple,
unassuming kind of madness, without any of the excitement or the
glamour of the race meeting or of the hunting field, and the love and
the madness are incomprehensible and inexplicable to those who neither
share them nor know them.
The quiet stroll by the stream or river bank, the constant communing
with nature, the watching of bird and insect life, appeal with
irresistible force and power to the angler. As the short winter days
draw out, and spring begins to assert her revivifying powers, the
longing, intense as ever, comes over us, and we yearn for the river
side. And the lessons that we learn from our love for it are not
without value; patience and self-control come naturally to those who
have the real angling instinct.
How widely spread this natural instinct is we may gather from observing
the long lines of fishermen, each with his few feet of bank pegged
out, engaged in some competition, and watching with intense interest
for long hours the quiet float in front of him. Give him but a better
chance of following up his instinct, and doubtless he would take with
increased zeal to those higher branches of the sport that appeal more
directly to most of us--the keenness is there, the opportunity alone is
wanting.
Seeing that fishing and its charms have been so amply extolled and set
forth by such able and various pens, from Father Walton, the merchant,
prince of all writers on this subject, down to later days in continuous
line, through such names as Kingsley (man of letters), or Sir Edward
Grey (man of affairs)--writers whose works will live, and who can
inspire in us the enthusiasm of sympathetic feeling--why, it may be
asked, is it that we are not content, and that so many of us cannot
refrain from publishing our impressions? There can be no answer to this
query except it be as in my own case, the confession of a desire to
record some of the experiences, gained through many years, in the hope
that some crumb of information may be gleaned therefrom, and that the
pleasure taken in recording them may find a responsive echo in some
breast.
I would wish at once to disarm possible criticism by candidly admitting
that this little work has no literary, or indeed any other pretensions.
It is merely what it purports to be--a series of articles strung
together, with the object that I have already described.
I would desire also to thank the proprietors of the _Field_ for their
permission to reprint such articles as have already appeared in that
paper. My thanks are also due to my old friend Mr. W. Senior and to Mr.
Sheringham for having been kind enough to glance through my MSS. and
give me the benefit of their most valued criticism.
WARDLEY HALL, _August, 1905_.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
IN PRAISE OF THE DRY FLY.
THE methods of the "Dry Fly" Fisherman, as compared with those of
his brother of the "Wet Fly," are absolutely distinct, and demand
totally different characteristics. It is idle to compare them, or to
praise one to the disparagement of the other. The sooner this kind
of carping criticism is entirely abandoned the better. The dry fly
purist may argue until he is black in the face; he will never convert
the wet fly devotee. Nor, on the other hand, is there the slightest
chance of the South Country chalk stream Angler being induced to
give up his favourite form of sport. Quite apart from the fact that
different waters require different treatment, the two methods appeal to
absolutely different temperaments. Take for example the wet fly man.
He wends his way, probably down stream, fishing all the fishable water
before him, carefully searching with his flies all the quick water and
stickles; placing his flies deftly near the eddy by that half-sunken
rock, round which the swirl comes, forming a convenient resting-place
for a goodly trout; or with careful underhand cast searches under the
overhanging branches of yonder tree; always alert and on the move,
leaving untried no likely holt, keeping as far as possible out of
sight, and showing himself to be a master of his art. But he has always
a roving commission. He may, of course, elect to fish up stream, and
many an expert in that line may be met with; but, even then, his art
differs radically from that of the angler with the floating fly.
[Illustration: WAITING FOR A RISE.]
From the latter are required in a special degree a quick and accurate
eye, great delicacy and accuracy in the actual cast, and above all, a
quiet, watchful disposition; he cannot whip the water on the chance of
catching an unseen trout. His _rôle_ is to scan the water, to watch
the duns and ascertain their identity, to spot at once the dimple of
a rising fish, and to differentiate between such a rise and the swirl
made by a tailing fish. He will note the flow of the stream, and
whether he will have to counteract the fateful drag. Having made up
his mind, arranged his plan of action, and selected his fly, he will
crawl up as near as may be desirable below his fish, taking care not to
alarm in his approach any other that may lie between him and it; then,
after one or two preliminary casts to regulate his distance, he will
despatch his fly, to alight, as lightly as may be, some three or four
inches above his fish. His field glasses will have told him, even if
his natural eyesight could not, the quality of the fish he is trying
for, and for good or evil his cast is made.
Perhaps he has under-estimated the distance, and if it be a bank
fish he is attacking his fly may float down some twelve inches from
the bank under which the fish is lying. In that case he will not
withdraw it until it is well past the trout, but he may have noted
that half-defined, but encouraging, movement which the trout made as
the fly sailed past. His next cast is a better one, and, guided by the
stream under the bank, the fly, jauntily cocking, an olive quill of
the right size and shade, will pass over the trout's nose. A natural
dun comes along abreast of his; will his poor imitation be taken in
preference to the Simon pure? By the powers, it is! A confident upward
tilt of the trout, a pink mouth opens, and the 000 hook is sucked in;
one turn of the wrist, and he is hooked. Despite a mad dash up stream
the bonnie two-pounder--in the lusty vigour of high condition--is soon
controlled and steadied by the even strain of the ten-foot cane-built
rod. Down stream now he rushes; he will soon exhaust himself at that
game. Keep quietly below him, and keep the rod-point up. That was a
narrow squeak! He nearly gained that weed-bank! Had he effected his
purpose, nothing but hand-lining would have had the slightest chance
of extricating him, but the rod strain being applied at the right
moment and in the right direction, the gallant fish is turned back.
That effort, happily counteracted, has beaten him; he soon begins to
flop upon the surface and show evident signs of surrendering. The
landing net is quietly disengaged and half submerged in the stream
below him--for if he sees it he will be nerved to fresh efforts--and
his head being kept up, he is guided without fuss into its embrace. And
after he is given his instant and humane quietus with one tap, rightly
placed, of the "Priest," the pipe is lit, tackle is adjusted, and there
is leisure to admire the beautiful proportions of a newly caught trout,
the glorious colouring of his spots and golden belly. Something has
been accomplished, something done. A fair stalk has been rewarded, and
it is no chance success.
Those happy days when there is a good rise of fly, when the fish are
in their stations, heads up, and lying near the top of the water, and
the wind is not too contrary, should indeed be gratefully remembered. A
short length of water will suffice for the dry fly man--a few hundred
yards. For him there need be no restless rushing from place to place.
Quiet watching and waiting, constant observation of what is going on in
the river beneath him, these are his requirements.
But on the days when the rise is scant and short, and the trout seem
to be all glued to the bottom, or when a strong down stream wind
nearly baffles the angler, then his patience will be somewhat sorely
tested; even under these discouraging conditions there are places in
the river unswept by wind, most rivers having a serpentine course; on
one of these our angler will take up his position, and his patience and
perseverance will be rewarded. And if the trout be, as I have said,
glued to the bed of the river, and there is no rise of fly to tempt
them to the surface, he will wait patiently. It will not be always so;
a change of temperature will come or some subtle atmospheric change
about which we know so little, but which effects a wonderful change
in the trout. They begin, as it were, at such changes to wake up from
their lethargy, to come nearer to the surface and to re-assume their
favourite positions--at the tail of yonder weed bank--or in the oily
glide under the bank side. The first few flies of the hatch may be
allowed to pass by them, apparently unheeded or unnoticed, but before
long they settle down to feeding in a serious manner. Now is your
opportunity, make the most of it; and if you keep well down and make
no bungling cast, your creel will soon be somewhat weightier than it
promised to be a short hour ago. Our friend the chalk stream trout will
brook no bungling; he is easily put down and scared, and the delicate
accuracy needed in securing him forms the most potent of the many
charms of this most beautiful of sports.
Should, as may often prove to be the case, the unpropitious conditions
continue without improvement, our angler is not without resource. His
surroundings are so entirely congenial; he lies on the fresh green
meadow-grass, the hedgerows ablaze with blossom, the copses in their
newly-donned green mantles, blue with the shimmering sheen of countless
blue-bells, are full of rejoicing and of promise. The birds, instinct
with their love-making and nesting operations, are full of life; all
nature seems to be vigorous with new-born hope. The true angler can
rejoice with them all, sharing their pleasure and delight, drinking
in pure draughts of ozone, and adding, perchance, to his store of
knowledge of insect and animal life. His field glasses, as he lies
prone and sheltered, bring him within touch and range of many sights
that otherwise would have passed unnoticed. That water vole coasting
along the bank side, pausing incontinently to sit up and look around,
those rabbits playing near the burrow mouth, the moorhens cruising
round the flags and sedges, all afford interest and instruction. In the
very grass on which he lies he will find ample scope for observation
and amusement in his enforced leisure should he care to watch the
teeming multitudes of insects that throng it, his ears meanwhile being
solaced and refreshed by countless woodland songsters.
[Illustration]