THE SALMON.
_Salmo Salar._--This celebrated fish is totally different in appearance
from the trout, having decidedly brilliant scales, colored bluish black
down to the lateral line, and beautiful and white as glistening silver
below. It has on the gill-covers and upper part of the sides
occasionally dark irregular spots. The tail is more forked, and
proportionally more expanded than that of the trout, while the fish is
of a more slim and elegant shape.
The branchial rays are twelve, and the fin-rays are as follows:
D. 13.0; P. 15; V. 9; A. 9.; C. 19-5/5.
These splendid and valuable fish, whether regarded as an object of the
sportsman’s skill or the epicurean’s taste, though once abundant in our
State, are so no more. Hendrick Hudson, on ascending the river he
discovered, was particularly struck with their immense numbers, and
continually mentions the “great stores of salmon.” The last unhappy fish
that was seen in the Hudson had his adventurous career terminated by the
net, near Troy, in the year 1840. The rivers flowing into Lake Ontario
abounded with them even until a recent period, but the persistent
efforts at their extinction have at last prevailed, and except a few
stragglers they have ceased
[Illustration: ATLANTIC SALMON--(_Salmo Salar._)]
from out our waters. The willful, stupid obstinacy in building dams
without fishways, in crowding the rivers with nets, and neglecting all
measures for their protection, have annihilated the noblest of game
fish. They are now only to be found in Maine, and to the northward of
it. The rivers of Maine are no longer worth the angler’s attention, and
if he would have good sport he must proceed to the wilds of New
Brunswick or Lower Canada.
In the wild woods of those famed regions they abound, and there, amid
the solitude of nature, in its primeval grandeur, the writer has cast
the fly over thousands, has lured hundreds from their hidden depths, and
seen myriads moving about in their romantic pools, or darting away when
disturbed; has waited, casting patiently, for their appearance; has felt
the vigor of their first rush; has seen them leap, maddened, high out of
water; has experienced all the variations of hope, the exultation of
success, and, alas! the agony of failure. He has known them to dart away
resistlessly down some impassable rapid, and leap for joy as they broke
his frail tackle, and he has seen them panting with the gaff in their
sides and the dark blood streaming over their resplendent scales, as his
quick-eyed assistant had secured them at the moment the hook was tearing
out. Aye, he once had the good luck of having one that was thrown out of
water by the blow, the hook tearing out at the same time, caught on the
gaff ere he fell back into the watery grave of hope.
The glorious sport! Ye delvers after the ore of gold, hidden as it seems
to be in boxes of silk or bales of cotton, in bits of paper or leaves
of ledgers; ye weary crawlers through the streets of mammon, who think
the world is bounded by the four walls of your ambition; ye who have
been brought up to work, as though work were the aim of life instead of
the means of its improvement; ye who have laid up a few hundred for some
pet dissipation, a visit to Saratoga or Newport, or a fight with the
tiger--that man-eater--and ye who must watch every day over your
accumulated millions, lest a penny slip into a cranny and be lost, go to
the woods, where you will be surrounded by the sombre trees, where the
rocks will be your companions and the wind whisper and the stream
prattle to you. There you will learn how little it takes to render man
comfortable and happy, how but for his reckless passions and extravagant
desires all might be satisfied and plenty crown the human race. There,
where nature speaks to you in her beauty, in her grandeur, and
occasionally in her stupendous power; where the wonders of the universe
by day and night are ever present, like old friends; where there is
naught but the thin air between the Maker and his beings, you may learn
what will be more valuable some day than any treasure of gold or silver.
Breathe the pure air, shake off every ill that flesh is heir to; add to
your life, if you love it so well, a week for each day, and that a day
of never wearying enjoyment. Take rod and gun, aspire to cast the line
far and straight and light, feel the struggle of patience, perseverance,
skill, resolution, with brute strength and cunning; know the pleasurable
anxiety of the chase, the alternate hope and fear, and the final glory
of success. Learn the woodsman’s art, the “gentle craft of venerie,”
and wonder at the resources of the wilderness, and on your return thank
me not, if you can. But that you may do it well, read the following
prosy instructions carefully, for if they be not entertaining they be
useful.
The rod for salmon fishing should be from sixteen to twenty feet long;
one of sixteen, or even fifteen, if well made and elastic, will answer.
It must be strong and stiff, but not too heavy, and the further it will
cast the greater will be the success. Salmon are more wary than trout;
if they see a horrible, ill-shapen being, like man, lashing at them with
a long whip, they lie close to the bottom, and it is only by keeping
well out of sight, and never disturbing or approaching the pool, that
they can be tempted. A short rod, though it may be capable of casting
the requisite distance, will not give sufficient command nor enable the
angler to lift the fly with facility.
The fly must be cast straight, light, and as far as possible; it must be
put exactly upon the right ripple, and must fall like a snow-flake; it
should, if the water is still, be allowed to sink a few inches and then
drawn up to and along the surface a foot or so, again allowed to sink,
and so on till it is raised for another cast. It is not moved as
rapidly, nor with precisely the same tremulous motion as in trout
fishing. Often a long time passes before a fish, no matter how plenty
they may be, will rise; and when he does come, it is as often to play
with and slap at the fly as to take it. Nothing is more provokingly
exciting than to have a magnificent fish rush again and again at your
fly, leap over and around it, break near it or strike at it with his
tail, without, however, showing the slightest desire to take it in his
mouth.
A fish hooked foul, though he gives a great deal of trouble, and often
breaks the tackle, does not afford half the legitimate sport of one that
has the hook in the mouth.
When fish are playing thus, and it is fully determined that they will
not take the allurement presented them, no matter how attractive, it
becomes necessary to substitute another, and continue so doing till
their dainty palates are satisfied.
When they finally take hold, have a care for their first rush; the pain,
if pain they feel, or astonishment, drives them wild, and they dash and
fling themselves about, leap out of water, and carry on generally in a
manner to surprise weak nerves. Finding their efforts to escape vain,
they will dart down the nearest rapids, and here they must be followed
if the water is too shallow for the canoe, by the angler, with the
agility of the antelope. He must have feet, hands, and eyes for
everything. The fish must be guided through the safest current, the line
kept clear of rocks, while the angler must pursue his course through
pools and over ledges and bowlders, slippery with the water, and
requiring the sureness of foot of the chamois. On, on he must go,
regardless of falls or bruises, his reel making sweet music to the
uncoiling line, keeping within sight of his prey till the latter reaches
the next pool or resting-place. After an hour’s struggle in this, he may
take down another rapid in the same vigorous style. In these descents
the angler will find his gaff, if shod with iron, a great convenience
in steadying his steps, and heavy shoes with iron nails will in a
measure prevent his slipping and will obviate stone bruises, although
they are apt to break the delicate knees of the canoe, and should be
removed before getting into one, and moccasins or slippers substituted.
There is a well authenticated story of one fish that was struck at six
o’clock in the evening, followed down through three rapids, and finally
lost at half-past ten o’clock that evening.
Salmon will sulk, remaining motionless at the bottom for a long time
after they are wearied with an unsuccessful struggle, and must be
aroused with pebbles, bearing on the line, or in some other way. Many of
the pools in the Canadian waters have been worn out of clay banks, and
their sides under water are often perpendicular or overhanging. When the
fish sulks in one of these, the line cuts into the edge of this bank,
and is of course broken to pieces by the first rush.
Gentleness will do much with fish, as with other reasonable beings, and
a friend of mine saved a number in a pool above an impassable rapid,
where other anglers had pronounced fishing impracticable, by striking
and handling the fish with extreme delicacy till they were led to the
head of the pool away from the dangerous neighborhood.
There is no superlative salmon line made; the best, probably, plaited
silk, tapered and covered with a preparation to exclude the water; but
that in general use is of hair and silk plaited or twisted--a
combination that, as we elsewhere remark, is by no means advantageous; a
plain hair line is preferred by careful anglers, and simple silk will
answer. The leader should be of single gut, if round and strong, and may
be colored in tea. Double gut will break the rod but not save the fish.
The flies, contrary to the received opinion in Europe, should be dark,
especially clarets and browns, above all the impalpable “fiery brown,”
and of rather a small size, with a few larger for rough water. The reel
should be large enough to carry two hundred yards of line, although with
activity and a hundred an angler may make out.
As for the number of fish, even in the best streams, those who read
Lanmann must receive his statements with, to use a moderate term, some
allowance. Ten or twelve fish in the course of a day is excellent luck,
and will keep the angler sufficiently occupied and excited, but the
average good fishing through the season is not half that number, and
there are many blank days. The upper shore of the St. Lawrence furnishes
the largest fish, but New Brunswick the most abundant. The rivers in the
former are mostly leased to individuals by the government, and of course
closed to the public except by the consent of the lessees. That famous
association called the Hudson’s Bay Company, a kingdom within a kingdom,
until a few years ago, were sole proprietors of fishing rights, but
having taken pains worthy of our emulation to destroy the fish, the
government curtailed their privileges, and passed stringent laws and
regulations, which are set out in the appendix, for the preservation of
the fish.
The rivers of New Brunswick are still free.[9] The fly-fishing in Canada
lasts till the first day of September, and in New Brunswick till the
fifteenth; but the net fishing terminates earlier, and in Canada all
spearing or fishing by torchlight is stringently forbidden. These laws
are, strange as it may seem to us, enforced with commendable energy in
Canada, though in New Brunswick our mode of letting the people override
the laws prevails.
The best river in New Brunswick beyond all comparison, is the
Nipisiquit, emptying in the Bay of Chaleurs, and near it are several
almost as prolific.[10] In Lower Canada the Mingan, the Moisie, the
Busamite stand preëminent, but have many rivals. Directions for reaching
them have been given under the head of sea trout fishing, but instead of
taking a sail-boat, as there suggested, from any port on the river St.
Lawrence, the same might be done either from Bathurst or Prince Edward’s
Island, both of which are nearer the lower streams.
There are many excellent rivers on the coast of Labrador as far as the
Straits of Belle Isle, or even farther, and they would be well worth a
visit, either in one of our clipper yachts or in a fast schooner. Many
are entirely beyond the realms of civilization, and a pleasant party
might have a glorious time and abundant sport.
It would be necessary to take canoemen and canoes, or what is strongly
recommended, small, light flat-boats that can be rowed or poled by one
man, and which can be purchased for five dollars apiece at most of the
gulf seaports.
Arm yourself, then, with two good salmon rods; they may be so made us to
constitute a trout rod as well, not by any means one of those detestable
nondescripts called a general rod, but two rods distinct with joints
fitting to each other. Take with you two good lines, plenty of flies,
extra gut and hooks, leaders and feathers, and a strong hook gaff, but
not that dangerous, unwieldy instrument called a spring gaff. Thus
equipped, go forth conquering and to conquer, and may good luck attend
you. Seek any of the rivers we shall name, ascend them in your fragile
canoe, station yourself early in the morning or at the approach of
evening, choose your best fly, keep well out of view, cast far and
light, and may you many and many a time be rewarded with the fierce rush
of the mighty salmon, his struggle and final conquest, and may your
sleep be sound and your heart at rest amid nature’s primeval hills. May
the black flies and mosquitoes spare you, may the sand-fly not find you
out, may the heat be tempered to you by day and the cold by night, may
you not lose your footing too often, nor fall too hard, and may your
fish be the largest, strongest and bravest that ever were taken. May you
receive that mercy which you show, never drawing one drop of useless
blood, nor causing one unnecessary pang.
The aid of all good men and true is needed both by precept and example,
to save the tenants of the water from final extermination. By putting
restraint upon ourselves, never being guilty of wanton slaughter, by
steadily urging measures for the preservation of the game, and by
invariably obeying and compelling others to obey such laws as should be
passed, we may be able to leave to our children a heritage of pleasure
that bountiful nature has abundantly provided for ourselves. No fish are
more defenceless and more readily destroyed than trout and salmon;
there are certain prerequisites to the continuance of the species that
must be complied with. The fish must ascend to the fresh water to spawn,
and if prevented by an improperly constructed dam, will quit the
locality never to return.
It should be known that, contrary to the usually received opinion,
salmon cannot surmount a fall of much over ten feet; this, probably, is
the full extent of their powers. And in effecting this, much depends
upon the depth of water at its foot; the deeper it is the higher they
can leap. They do not take their tails in their mouths, according to the
ancient theory, to enable them to spring higher, but rush with their
utmost velocity from the bottom, and are carried by their momentum a
considerable distance out of water. Such a leap or a struggle against
strong rapids weakens them, and they must soon rest to recover strength
for another ascent. They thus congregate below each fall, and often make
many efforts before they overcome it. They usually move at night or
early in the morning. A dam of fifteen or twenty feet will effectually
exclude them from any stream, but may be rendered innocuous at small
expense by placing below the wasteway boxes of heavy wood, with a fall
of not over five feet from one to the other. A salmon leaps from the
river to the first, from that to the next, and so on till he has
overcome the barrier. A broad sluiceway leading at a moderate angle to
the pool below, will probably answer as well.[11]
The fish, as they enter the rivers, may be deterred from entering, or
all captured in nets spread entirely across the mouth, and when those
that do pass have reached the spawning beds, they are peculiarly
exposed to the cruel spear. At night, by this instrument, with the aid
of flambeaux, hundreds may be killed and many more wounded and left to
perish miserably. If they are to continue in reasonable numbers, nets
must not be set close together, the spawning beds must be undisturbed,
and the murderous spear utterly prohibited. With these precautions and a
regulation concerning the sized mesh that is used, this valuable source
of pleasure, health and profit may not only be retained but indefinitely
augmented; without such care the day is not far off when “the places
that knew them will know them no more,” when their bright sides will no
longer gleam beneath the waves or glisten as they gambol in the
sunlight, when the nets will cease to yield a return, when the
fishermen, longing regretfully for their most valuable prize, will find
their occupation gone, and honest and dishonest, fair fisherman and
sneaking poacher, alike be overwhelmed in one common ruin. Surely we
have too much good sense, too much public spirit, too much energy and
determination to submit to such a calamity; let us unite, then, in
repressing unseasonable and unlawful fishing, in preserving and
protecting the fish, and in restoring rivers that have been exhausted.
In the salt water, salmon never take the fly, and rarely bait of any
kind, although they feed on sand eels and small fish in addition to
shell-fish; but as they advance into brackish or fresh water, they
either miss their natural food and become hungry, or get accustomed to
feeding on grasshoppers and insects, and are deceived by the artificial
fly, and will at times take the bait.
When they leave the salt water, the sea-lice that have fastened to them
fall off, frequently to be replaced by fresh-water parasites, and this
is sometimes given as the reason for their leaving the sea so early in
the year, although they do not spawn till the Fall. While spawning they
are unfit to eat, and after the operation are utterly exhausted. In this
condition, when returning to the sea, they are termed kelts, the male
being distinguished as a kipper and the female as a baggit. As the
spawning season approaches, a curious cartilaginous hook grows from the
lower jaw, which is supposed to be a provision of nature to prevent an
unfortunate termination to the many desperate contests between the males
at that period.
The habits of salmon are by no means determined; in fact, little is
known positively about them. It has been even suggested that grilse are
a distinct species, although it is hardly doubted with us but they are
young salmon. Their times of visiting the fresh water are subject to
peculiar individual exceptions; in fact, it may be said there are two
opinions among fishermen, and persons who have watched salmon for twenty
and thirty years assert that some are ascending while others are
descending. Izaak Walton says that salmon spawn in August, which is
directly contrary to the views of other English writers, and certainly
not in accordance with the practice of our fish. Others again say they
return to the salt water in September, and reascend the rivers later in
the Fall. The young in all stages have been disputed over, and called by
divers names, such as pinks, smolts, parr, brandling, samlet, peal,
grilse, until one hardly knows what sort of fish he really has
captured. Every writer has his theory, and the following is mine; it may
be true or not, but the statements of fact are.
Salmon are never found in our rivers except in three stages: First, a
little fish much like a trout, but with a larger eye and richer colors;
they have no blue spots, but have darker bands on their sides; they
weigh from half an ounce to half a pound. Second, the grilse, which is
precisely like a salmon, except that it weighs from two and a half to
six pounds. Third, the salmon, which weighs from eight to eighty pounds.
Salmon first appear in the fresh water about the 10th of June, and
grilse a month later. The main run of the former is from June 15th to
August 15th in New Brunswick, and from June 10th to July 20th in Canada.
The explanation of this difference is simple: the Canadian fish are much
the largest, averaging double the size of their more southern brethren,
and as the waters fall during the hot months of Summer, they must ascend
earlier than smaller fish, and before the spring freshets have entirely
subsided, or they would never reach the high waters at all. Straggling
fish, however, are running up at all seasons, early and late, and a few
probably remain in the fresh water the entire year, or descend only when
they are sickened by a lengthened residence in an unchanged element.
Salmon do not spawn in Summer, but in Winter, commencing not earlier,
and often later, than October; the fish that ascend last probably spawn
last. Then they return to the sea; but not at once, some remaining under
the ice through the Winter, others going immediately. My theory,
therefore, is that the young fish, whether you
[Illustration: CARP.]
call them fry, or pinks, or smolts, or peal, go to the sea usually a
year after their birth, but with no invariable regularity, and will then
average six ounces in weight, many undoubtedly waiting till the Fall, or
eighteen months after birth; that they return the succeeding July
grilse;[12] that the grilse spawn the following November, and after
visiting the sea, reappear next Spring as salmon. The young fish are
taken with the fly through the Summer in all the salmon rivers, and
require a second glance to distinguish them from young trout, although
they are very different, one decisive peculiarity being that their backs
are arched or hogged, and another, as I have mentioned, that their eyes
are large. The fry of trout--and recollect grown trout are not
banded--have light sides, and are found usually in more quiet water. It
would be well if sportsmen should call the fish in question respectively
salmon fry, grilse, and salmon, and eschew all other fanciful names, as
leading only to confusion.
Salmon are never taken in fresh water with any food in their stomachs;
they are reported not to eat their young, and do not apparently feed on
flies. The fry feed almost entirely on flies, and I have seen them pick
off one after another as skillfully as a trout; but I have never
distinctly seen a salmon take a natural fly. When they spring out of
water, it is in play, and at such times, contrary to the rule with
trout, casting over them will be in vain, they will not rise. Moreover,
our flies do not in the least resemble the natural flies of the rivers,
which are of a dull green, and the salmon rivers afford very few flies
at best. Observe me, I do not refer to mosquitoes or black gnats, at
neither of which would gentlemanly fish deign to look. My theory,
therefore, is, that salmon do not feed during the spawning season, but
are supported by the animalculæ in the water, and have poor commons at
that, as their miserable condition soon testifies. Many varieties of
fish live without apparent food, often with the additional disadvantage
of infrequent change of water, as goldfish in a globe.
When salmon first arrive in the harbors, they coast along the shore, and
are then taken in nets, which are required by law to have a mesh too
large to capture grilse; later, they leave the warm shallows, and follow
the cooler channel beyond the nets, which are only permitted to extend a
certain distance. The tide-water fishing is therefore practically over
by the 1st of August. Net fishing above the salt water is forbidden, or
at least subject to the same restrictions, which, if they were enforced,
would almost put an end to it; but, discreditable as it may seem, and
short-sighted as such conduct unquestionably is, this law is totally
disregarded in many rivers, where of course the fish are rapidly
diminishing. They spawn over gravelly flats and pools, covering up the
ova after impregnation, and then descend slowly, greatly emaciated, ugly
and woe-begone, to the sea. At such times, although they will still take
the fly, they are unfit to eat, and while they notwithstanding
frequently fall a victim to the cruel spear of the murderous savage, no
true angler nor honest man will harm them.
Casting the fly gracefully and effectively is a peculiar art, hard to
acquire, and picturesque to witness; it is altogether different from
slashing the water, and almost as difficult of mastery as the
corresponding science of trout fishing. The rod, being long and
comparatively heavy, must be held in both hands, which are changed
occasionally so as to alternate that at the but, and teach the angler to
cast over either shoulder. The line is lengthened to the proper
distance, is raised with a springing jerk, swung out straight behind,
and then again cast forward with the same springy motion. The work has
to be done with the tip, which, except in casting against the wind, must
be kept as elevated as possible. The stiffer the rod the more command
the angler has over his line in avoiding the rocks and making the best
of awkward places; but this is counterbalanced by the disadvantages of
excessive weight and a stiffness in striking that frequently breaks the
casting line. A rod will cast four times its length beyond the tip; one
of sixteen feet, therefore, will cast sixty-four feet of line,
ordinarily abundant; and although one of twenty feet will cover sixteen
more feet, unless it is made of cedar it is uncomfortably heavy. A cedar
rod would be perfection, but it is not to be trusted in the hands of a
bungler.
When there is any current, and it is rare to take salmon elsewhere, the
fly is cast across the stream and allowed to swing over the fish, which
invariably lie with their heads up-stream. When a salmon intends to
rise, he generally separates himself from his companions and waits till
the fly approaches to the precise distance that pleases him. Then
“Strike for your altars and your homes,”
not too hard, but as quick as the lightning from the sky, and this
although contrary to the English books, on the ground that a salmon, if
he rises once and fails to touch the fly, will always come again. If,
however, he has tasted the unappetizing morsel, and has not been hooked,
for he is quick to spit it out, you will see him no more. If you fail to
hook a fish on the first rise, it is well if you can keep your
impatience under control, to rest him by casting elsewhere a few times,
and if you fail to strike him on the third rise, change your fly. Salmon
are extremely particular and dainty in their tastes, and it is never
advisable to fish too long with one fly unless they take it well.
The great rules are--keep out of sight, change your flies and rest the
pools. The best time of a clear day is early and late, and in the midday
heat not a boat nor a line should disturb the water; in fact, a pool
that a canoe has crossed is ruined for the day, and when there is no
rising, there is little good in casting. A pool that is not disturbed at
night would be found much better, as a consequence, in the morning.
But after your fish is hooked, after he is played and almost played out,
after you have exhausted him, and brought him skillfully and carefully
to shore, he is not yet in the pot; nor will he be unless you have an
assistant expert with the gaff. There are all sorts of directions about
this important operation, some authors saying a fish must be gaffed in
the shoulder, others preferring the tail, some the belly, and some the
back, but, in fact, one place is as good another; the main points are
not to miss nor graze him, and not to jerk so hard as to throw him off
the gaff. To prevent this, where you anticipate finding only awkward
aids, it is well to carry a gaff with a small barb, like an ordinary
hook. I have had the indescribable pleasure of seeing my fish flung
across the boat, and dropped in the water on the other side. The moment
the fish is struck, the handle should be held perpendicular, so that he
cannot flounce off.
The best size for this implement is a length of nine inches from the end
of the shank to the middle of the bend, from the latter four inches in a
straight line to the point, which should be delicate and sharp, and at
least two inches and three-eighths from the inner edge of the shank
opposite; the bend should swell out so as to be three inches across at
its widest, and the end of the shank must be bent back and sharpened;
the steel tapers gradually from the point to a thickness of one quarter
of an inch. Being nothing more than a large hook, it is easily carried,
and when wanted for use, fastened to any suitable stick by driving in
the projection on the shank, and winding the whole with stout cord. For
very large salmon, a stronger and larger gaff would be desirable, and
for grilse a smaller one.
When fish run, and throw themselves out of water, some writers direct
you to taughten your line; but I say, heed them not. Your line is well
out and sunk to some distance, the very jump of the fish will
consequently bring a great strain on the hook, without your aid, and
many a fish is lost by such usage. On the contrary, if you give to him
as he leaps, you diminish the tension, and then the quicker you take up
the line after he has fallen back, the better. If, on the contrary, when
he leaps he is near by you, and your line straight and out of water, he
will try and strike it with his tail to break it, in which he may also
be foiled by giving to him. My experience is to this effect, and you
will soon find out, if the fish are large and strong, how hard it is to
do otherwise.
It has been said that four times the length of the rod beyond the tip is
the utmost length of line that can be handled with dexterity; it is not
meant that more cannot be cast, for I have often cast five times the
length, but with an effort that soon becomes wearisome, and, if across a
rapid current, without the requisite command. It is best to fish down
stream, if possible, as otherwise your line sinks, and even in fishing
across there will be considerable slack line. This is a second reason
for rapid striking. There is another mode of managing a line, which is
sometimes called casting, and by which a distance of eighty yards can be
covered. The angler has a rod as thick at the tip as one’s little
finger, and a hair line as thick as the tip. Of course no reel can be
used, as such a line would not run through the rings, or be contained on
the barrel. The line tapers regularly to the fly. It is usually used in
rapid water, and to cast, the fisherman waives his rod from side to
side, lifting as much of it as possible clear of the water, and then
throws out strongly with an underhand motion. The line rolls, as it
were, raising itself from the water, as the impetus advances, till the
fly is taken up and jerked over, so to speak, at an incredible distance.
When a fish is struck he is drawn in by hand. I have not tried this
proceeding sufficiently to speak positively, but think that the heavy
waxed lines now in general use would answer to a comparative degree. It
is a difficult though not refined mode of fishing, and is the only way
of casting eighty yards.
The following is a list of the principal salmon and trout rivers of
Canada and New Brunswick, with the distances of the former from Quebec,
and such information as could be obtained concerning their character and
condition. Those marked in _italics_ have been leased to private
individuals, but the leasing changes year by year.
The _Jacques Cartier_ is the only river near Quebec
which, at the present time, affords any salmon.
From Quebec to Murray Bay is 78 miles.
Here there is a river that furnishes a few salmon and
many fine trout.
From Murray Bay to the Saguenay is 44-120
There is excellent sea trout fishing in the Saguenay
and its tributary, the _St. Marguerite_, is a superior salmon
river.
River Escoumain 23
Between it and the Saguenay are the two _Bergeronnes_,
and both furnish a few salmon and many trout.
Portneu 26
Plenty of trout and some salmon.
_Sault de Cochon_ 9
Impassable for salmon, but affording excellent trout
fishing at its mouth.
_La Val_ 2
Superior salmon and trout river.
Bersamis miles 24-84
Affording in its tributaries many fine salmon; between
it and the La Val are the Colombia, Plover and Blanche,
all poor salmon streams.
Outardes 11
Manicouagan 16
Mistassini 12
Betscie 3
Of these rivers I can obtain no satisfactory information.
_Godbout_ 15-57-261
A celebrated salmon river, one of the best in the
province.
_Trinity_ 15
Good salmon and trout fishing.
Little Trinity 10
Calumet 3
Pentecost 14
Not a salmon river.
St. Margaret 36
One of the best salmon and trout rivers.
_Moisie_ 24-103-364
Fine large salmon are taken in this river, and it is
widely celebrated.
Trout 7
Manitou 35
Good trout fishing; the salmon are obstructed by
falls.
Sheldrake 16
Magpie 22
Furnishes a few salmon.
St. John 5
An admirable salmon stream.
Mingan 16-101-465
Probably the best river in the province for salmon,
and excellent for trout.
Romaine 9
An excellent stream for both salmon and trout.
Wascheeshoo 53
Pashasheboo 18
A few salmon.
Nabesippi 7
Agwanus 5
A fair supply of salmon.
Natashquan 14-106-571
Salmon fine and abundant.
Kegashka 23
Salmon impeded by falls.
Musquarro 15
Affords good salmon fishing.
Washeecootai 12
Olomanosheebo 11
Coacoacho 18
Contains some salmon.
Etamamu 21
Fine salmon fishery.
Netagamu 16
A fine trout stream.
Mecattina 4
Good salmon fishing.
Ha Ha 9
St. Augustine 6
Affords many salmon.
Esquimaux 14-149-720
An excellent salmon river, somewhat run down.
*/
In New Brunswick there are salmon in the St. John and its tributaries,
but the best of the latter, the Nashwaak, has been closed with an
impassable dam. From St. John it is easy to take the cars to Shediac,
and cross to Prince Edward’s Island, where there is magnificent trout
fishing, especially near Charlotte, and tolerable accommodation; or one
can take the Quebec steamer to Bathurst and fish the Nipisiquit, which
is admitted to be the best river in the province, or the Restigouche and
its tributaries, an excellent stream, but much injured by spearing; or
the Cascapediacs, which furnish some salmon and innumerable grilse. The
Miramichi, between Shediac and Bathurst, is a fine large stream.
The streams in Canada emptying into the St. Lawrence from the south
shore, are hardly worth mentioning as salmon rivers, having been ruined
by mill-dams, with the exception of those that empty into Gaspé basin,
but they all afford superior trout fishing. I would here remark, that
where the name trout is mentioned in connection with the British
Provinces, the _Salmo Trutta Marina_, or sea trout, is always intended;
and the salmon fishing spoken of is fly fishing. The rivers that empty
into Gaspé basin, such as the Dartmouth, York and St. John, are leased,
as also the Bonaventure, that flows into the Bay of Chaleurs.
As explicit directions for travelling through the benighted regions
called the British Provinces, the following are given from a somewhat
unwillingly extended experience.
Take the night train or any route that will bring you to Boston before
half past seven A.M., for at that hour the boat leaves for St. John, not
St. Johns, which is in Newfoundland. If you are too late, you may still,
by means of the cars, intercept the same vessel at Portland. This boat
does not leave daily, but generally advertises in the New York and
always in the Boston papers. It touches at Portland, where you may take
a steamboat on its arrival to Calais, and proceed thence by railroad to
the Scoodic River, where there is fine white, not sea, trout fishing, or
stop at St. Andrews, whence there is a railroad in progress to
Woodstock, on the St. John River. The Boston boat reaches St. John in
about thirty-two hours, or at three o’clock; the fare is six dollars;
the meals extra, and, consequently, extra good.
The Waverley House, in St. John, kept by J. Scammell, affords the best,
though poor, accommodation, at a reasonable price. A train leaves on the
arrival of the boat for Shediac, and makes the one hundred and ten miles
in six hours, at a fare of three dollars. From Shediac a steamboat that
connects with the train carries you to Chatham in twelve hours for three
dollars and fifty cents, the meals being extra and infamous. At Shediac,
John Q. Adams keeps the Adams House, and will furnish information by
letter as to the time of the starting of the boats. Bowser’s Hotel is
the best in Chatham. From Chatham to Bathurst, forty-five miles, you are
compelled to travel in a stage that only leaves three times a week, and
never on the arrival of the boat, and will occupy ten hours of your time
at a charge of three dollars and a half; or you may take an extra for
sixteen dollars. If you hire one of Kelley, the stage proprietor, make a
tight bargain, for he is Biblical and takes in strangers. In case you
should be too late to reach Bathurst the same day, or have leisure on
your hands, stop at the Half-way House on the Tabasintac, which has the
last syllable accentuated, and fish that night and the next morning for
sea trout. They are taken from a horse-boat in abundance and of great
size.
In Bathurst there is a good hotel called the Wellington, kept by Mr.
Baldwin, with the efficient aid of Mary; and also a more private
establishment, by Bela Packard, which is the customary resort of
Americans. There is a telegraph from St. John to Bathurst, and Baldwin
will meet at Chatham any guests that send him word, and bring them to
Bathurst for fourteen dollars. In the latter place, Ferguson, Rankin &
Co. will furnish all the heavy outfit, such as pork, biscuit, butter,
tea, sugar, tobacco, and will have them ready put up if written to
beforehand. As it is customary on the Nipisiquit to loan the guides
blankets, the same firm keep them on hand, and will lend them to those
that buy stores of them. Once or twice a month the Arabian leaves
Shediac and stops within a couple of miles of Bathurst, and if you can
manage to suit your time to hers, you can go direct and be ticketed
through for ten dollars. Her days may be ascertained at the office of
the Boston boats, but it is well to telegraph to Bathurst to have a
canoe to meet you, as otherwise you may have difficulty in reaching
town from the landing. The same steamer and its associate, the Lady
Head, run to Dalhousie, at the mouth of the Restigouche, or a stage for
that place leaves Bathurst three times a week. The Lady Head does not
stop at Bathurst, on account of her draught of water.
On the Nipisiquit it is customary to have a camp-keeper or cook for the
party, and two canoemen to each angler; they furnish the canoe and
receive one dollar a day each. The following are good men: John, Peter
and Bruno Chamberlain; John makes a good fly, but is sulky and willful;
Bruno is lazy; Ned Veno and David Buchet, both of whom are excellent and
willing, and Fabian Bodereau, who is a fair cook. To save your men some
heavy work, where you do not intend to fish the Rough Waters, you drive
with your stores to the Round Rocks, the Pabineau Falls, or, if you
please, even to the Grand Falls, but the latter part of the road is bad.
The only fishing on the Miramichi is above Boiestown, and to reach it
you leave St. John in the night or day boat for Fredericton, arriving
there in eight hours at an expense of one dollar and a half. The night
boat runs three times a week. The best house in Fredericton is the
Barker House, kept by Mr. Fairweather, and in this city you must get
your supplies for the woods. The stage leaves every Tuesday and Friday
for Boiestown, nominally at ten A.M., and reaches that collection of
huts nominally at six P.M. The fare is two dollars and a half, and the
ordinary charge for an extra is ten dollars, but remember the stage
proprietor is Kelley. The best tavern in Boiestown is kept by Avery, but
about five miles up the river, at Campbelltown, is a nice house owned
by William Wilson, and the true plan is either to write to him to meet
you at Fredericton, or drive over to his place. He will engage your men,
aid you with the supplies, provide you with bread, besides making you
generally comfortable, and you have gained so much in the ascent of the
river. The stage from Boiestown runs to Chatham, and by that means you
may continue to the Nipisiquit, but there is no reliance to be placed on
it, and an extra from Fredericton to Chatham, one hundred and ten miles,
costs thirty dollars. The stage fare is seven, and there is no telegraph
to Boiestown.
One of the most interesting ways of reaching the various rivers of New
Brunswick is by portaging from the head-waters of one into those of
another. For instance, a steamboat leaves Fredericton semi-weekly, when
the water is not too low, for the Grand Falls on the St. John; a few
miles above, the Grand River debouches, from the head-waters of which a
short portage of a few miles takes you into the Waugan, one of the
branches of the Restigouche, or you may stop below the Falls and ascend
the Tobique, a noble river, full of salmon, but which, strange to say,
will not take the fly, and from Lake Nictou, the source of the Tobique,
you can readily portage into Lake Nipisiquit, and by ascending the main
forks of the latter, a short portage puts you on the Upsalquitch, a
branch of the Restigouche, and abounding in salmon. Another confluent of
the St. John, the Shiktahauk, is crossed at its head by the Royal Road,
where a wagon can be had to convey your baggage to a branch of the
Southwest Miramichi, and from Newcastle, at the mouth of the latter
river, you can ascend the Northwest Miramichi and strike the Nipisiquit
near the Grand Falls. These are but a few of the simplest voyages that
may be made, but a glance at the map, or a talk with any old Indian
guide, will reveal many others.[13]