south, for in a letter to _Forest and Stream_, dated Portland, Oregon,
September 28, a correspondent states that, in that month, “there begins
to appear in the streams near the Columbia river, a trout,” whose
description tallies exactly with that of the _spec-tabilis_, except that
the correspondent speaks of their affording _fine sport with the fly_;
this the trout while in Alaska fails to do. At first, the _spectabilis_
affect the rapids, but after a few days seek the deep pools, where they
gather in great numbers, and bite ravenously on hooks covered with spawn
and sunk to the bottom. Occasionally, when spawn was out, we used a bit
of fresh venison; but at the best they cared little for it, and when
the blood became soaked out, the bait was useless. Although fairly gamey
when hooked, fishing for these trout was but a poor substitute, for one
who had felt and remembered the thrills caused by sudden strikes of our
Adirondack fish. I have often when pool-fishing, seen them leisurely
approach the bait, and nibble at it as a dainty, full-fed kitten will at
a bit of meat, and when one did get the hook, we found it out only by a
slight resistance to the series of light twitches which it was necessary
to give it. They have evidently been taught by experience that salmon
roe is not apt to attempt escape. The usual size of the fish ranged from
six to twelve inches—now and then one larger. The largest taken by any
of us, near Sitka, fell victim to my “salmon spawn fly,” and gave
my little Orvis rod half an hour’s good work. It measured twenty-one
inches, but was very light for the length, weighing but two and
three-quarter pounds. At the Redoubt river, much larger ones were taken;
and two which I shot in Beardslee river were over two feet in length;
how much they weighed I never found out, for their surroundings of
sick and dying salmon, upon whose eggs they were feeding, prejudiced me
against them and I left them.
In shape and color the _spectabilis_ vary greatly, both factors
depending upon the length of time they have been in fresh water. When
fresh run, they are long and lean, shaped somewhat like the lake trout
of Adirondack lakes. The colors are dark lustrous olive-green back,
growing lighter as the median line is approached, and blending into a
silvery gray tint, which pales to a pure white on the belly; the green
portion is sprinkled with golden specks; the flesh is hard, and very
good for the table. After a very short sojourn in the creek, bright
crimson specks appear among the golden, which, however, fade to a pale
yellow; the lustre of the green disappears, they become heavier, but the
flesh becomes soft and uneatable, and the skin is covered with slime.
Salmon trout taken late in August and early in September, were full of
ripe ova.
Professor Bean placed some fish, that had been taken in salt water, into
a bucket of fresh, and the crimson spots made their appearance in less
than a day.
When fully decked with these, and fattened, they resembled our
_fontanalis_ greatly—the head, however, being somewhat larger, and the
tail less square.
_Salmo Gardneri_. My acquaintance with this species is very limited. The
first one that I saw I took in Sawmill Creek, well up to the head, in
September, 1879. Seeing that it differed greatly from the _spectabilis_,
I preserved it in alcohol, and it was subsequently identified by
Professor Bean. It measured a trifle over ten inches, and was very
plump, weighing seven and a quarter ounces. In my notes, I describe it
thus: “Body, dark green on back, but in general colors very much like
a steel head or quinnat salmon; covered with round, black spots, from
one-sixteenth to one-eighth inch in diameter; these extend considerably
below the median line, and the tail and dorsal fins are covered
with them; the second dorsal adipose, but less so than that of the
_fontanalis_, having a slight show of membrane, on which there are four
spots; ventral and anal fins, yellowish in centre, bordered with red;
belly, dull white; tail, nearly square; scales, quite large, about the
size of those of a fingerling chub; flesh, firm; and skin, not slimy. No
signs of ova or milt.”
On the 28th of April, 1880, I made note: “The first salmon of the season
made their début to-day—that is, if they are salmon, which I doubt.
“Five beauties, from thirty to forty inches long, were brought
alongside, in a canoe paddled by a wild-looking and awe-struck Siwash,
who, with his crouching Klootchman and papoose, gazed upon our ship,
guns, and us with an expression that showed them to be unfamiliar
sights. He was evidently a stranger, and was taken in, for he took
willingly two bits (25 cents) each for the fish, and no Sitka Siwasli
but would have charged treble the price. Through an interpreter, I
learned that he had spent the last seven months in a shanty on the
western side of Kruzoff Island, and that well up, among the foot-hills
of Mount Edgecomb, there was a little lake, from which there flowed a
small stream into the Pacific, and that in the headwaters of this stream
he had speared these fish, which run up the stream in the fall, remain
all winter in the lake, and in early spring spawn in the head of the
outlet.”
All of this militated strongly against the theory that they were salmon,
and when, on being dressed, the females were found to be full of ripe
ova, said theory was upset completely. My ten-inch specimen of last
September supplied us with a clue, and it was soon decided that these
magnificent fish were indeed trout; for in every respect except size,
and size of spots, some of which were a quarter of an inch in diameter,
the fish were identical. Whitford, the oldest inhabitant, confirmed
the Indian’s story, and gave me in addition the Indian name for the
fish—_Quot_ and that of the Russians, which I forget, but it meant
“Mountain Trout,” and said that they are found only in the lakes, high
up in the mountains, and that in winter the Indians spear and catch them
through holes in the ice.
We found the flesh to be very delicious—far more so than the best of
the salmon. The processes of cooking, both by broiling and boiling, had
a curious effect, for the flesh, which, when uncooked, was of a very
bright red, blanched to pure white.
The trip to Mount Edgecomb, in the early spring, involved hardship and
danger; and although several of us resolved that we would undertake
it, for the sake of such fish, somehow we never did, and I have thus
described all of the _gardneri_ that I ever saw.
_Salmo purpuratus (Clarkii)_. The most beautiful of the trout family,
although in no way equal to our Eastern trout in any other respect.
The _purpuratus_ is a lake trout, and found only in low-lying lakes.
Just back of Sitka, at the foot of the mountains, and elevated perhaps
twenty feet above the sea, is a little lake dubbed by me “_Piseco_”.
Handy to get at, and its outlet running through the centre of the town,
it became, in early spring, our first resort for fishing. Arriving in
June, 1879, many of us had, through days of fruitless endeavor, during
the summer and autumn, grown to disbelieve the tales of the inhabitants,
that this lake abounded in trout; but on the 20th of May, 1880, from
somewhere, there thronged the shallow edges, among the lily pads, great
schools of these trout, and for about two weeks there was no limit to
the number one could take of them. Salmon spawn was the best bait, but a
bit of venison would answer. A fly they would not rise to. In size, they
ranged from six to twelve inches—the latter size being, however, very
exceptional; their average was about eight inches. The description in my
notes is: “Specimen, May 27th. Length, nine and one-half inches; depth,
two and three-eighth inches; weight, five ounces; colors—back, rich,
dark brown, growing lighter toward medial line; at which, covering it
for a space of half an inch, there is a longitudinal stripe of rich
purple, extending from opercle nearly to tail; below the median line,
bright olive-green, lightening to silvery white on belly. All of the
tinted portion is profusely sprinkled with oval black spots, which mark
also the dorsal, caudal, and adipose fins; the ventral and anal fins are
yellowish bordered with crimson; tail, nearly square.
“The entire tinted portion has a beautiful golden iridescence, so that
when held in the sunlight, and looked at from the rear, it seems to be
gilded.” It may be noticed that, with the exception of the purple stripe
and the golden iridescence, the description of this fish is almost
identical with that of the _gardneri_. I think it quite possible that
they are the same at different ages, and that later in life these
Clarkii may become ambitious and seek more lofty lakes. None that were
taken contained ova.
Where they came from, unless they run up the inlet at night, no one
found out, for although closely watched in the daytime, none were ever
seen in it.
After about two weeks the greater portion disappeared, and although
sought in the deep waters of the lake, could not be found. Major William
Governeur Morris, the Collector of Customs of Alaska, assures me,
however, that during the summer of 1882, he found certain places in the
lake where he caught them until August. On July 4th he with a friend
catching four hundred and three in three hours, baiting with a single
salmon egg.
I am not sure that we could not have again found them, but the fishing
having grown slack in the lake, and growing daily better in the creeks,
we spent most of our time on the latter.
COMPARISON OF ALASKA WITH EASTERN TROUT.
The principal differences between the Alaska and Eastern trout are,
first, all Alaskans have hyoid teeth, the eastern trout have not.
No Alaskan trout will take a fly. All Alaskan trout, I think, spend a
portion of their lives in salt water. Length being equal, the Alaska
trout, with the exception of the Gardneri, or mountain trout, are
lighter than those of our eastern streams.
Using as a standard the average weight of a number of ten-inch
Adirondack trout, the following table will show this:
[Illustration: 0051]
Fontanalis-Adirondack, length 10 inches,
Fresh-run Spectabilis, „ 10 „
Crimson-specked „ 10.3 „
Sal mo Clarkii, „ 9 „
Salmo Gardneri, „ 10.1 „
In conclusion, I must again request that this contribution shall not be
considered and judged as an attempt to scientifically describe the fish
treated upon, but rather as what it really is, a condensation of the
field-notes of an amateur angler.
I have, in giving the sizes, weights, and other data in regard to the
Alaska salmon and trout, depended almost entirely upon my personal
knowledge and experience; it may not be out of place to add to them some
data gathered from reliable authorities.
In his report on the resources of Alaska, Major Mm. Governeur Morris
writes: “Sixty thousand Indians and several thousand Aleuts and
Esquimaux depend for the most part upon dried salmon for their winter
sustenance.”
The Hon. Wm. S. Hodge, formerly Mayor of Sitka, states in an official
report: “And additional testimony comes to us from numerous persons,
that at Cook’s Inlet the salmon average in weight sixty pounds, and some
of them reach a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds, and Mr. T. G.
Murphy only last week brought down from there on the _Newbern_ a barrel
full, containing only _four_ fish.” Surgeon Thomas T. Minor, who some
years ago visited Cook’s Inlet, in connection with business of the
Smithsonian Institution, makes statements which confirm the foregoing.
In the vicinity of Klawaek a cannery is established. A catch of seven
thousand fish at one haul of the seines is not unusual, many weighing
over forty pounds.
Mr. Frederick Whymper, artist to the Russian Overland Telegraph
Expedition, says in his well-written and interesting account of his
adventures: “The Yukon salmon is by no means to be despised. One large
variety is so rich that there is no necessity when frying it to put fat
in the pan. The fish sometimes measure five feet in length, and I have
seen boats whose sides were made of the tough skin.”
And a writer who, if disposed to strain the truth would not do so to say
anything in favor of Alaska, says in an article in Harper’s Magazine,
Vol. LV. page 815: “The number of spawning fish that ascend the Yukon
every June or July is something fabulous.... It would appear reasonable
to anticipate, therefore, the adoption by our fishermen of some
machinery by which they can visit the Yukon when the salmon begin to
run, and while they ascend the river catch a million pounds a day, for
the raw material is there, of the largest size, the finest flavor, and
the greatest number known to any stream in the world.’”
My general views about Alaska differ widely from those of the writer,
but on the salmon question, I indorse all I have quoted, excepting only
the word flavor.
I do not think the Alaska salmon equal in this respect to those of the
Atlantic coast, and far behind those of the Rhine; they are, however,
superior to those of the Columbia River.
In speaking of the salmon, I find I have omitted to mention that in
early spring, before the arrival of the salmon trout, and after their
departure in fall, great quantities of fingerling salmon pervaded the
streams, and bit eagerly at any kind of meat bait.
While the _spectabilis_ were present, these little fellows kept out of
sight and notice.
Since the body of this paper was written there has been on exhibition by
Mr. Blackford, of Fulton Market, Yew York, a number of trout, pronounced
to be the _salmo irideus_, one of which, weighing fifteen pounds, was
sent to the Smithsonian Institution, and there identified by Professor
Bean as being “_Salmo gardneri, the great trout of Edgecomb Lake_.”
I, studying these fish in their glass tank, did not form this opinion,
for Blackford’s trout had a broad red band extending from just back of
the eye to the tail, covering the opercule, a marking not existing on
any of the Edgecomb trout I have seen. But the Professor assures me that
“_color on the lateral line is not a specific character_.” On comparing
my notes of description of these fish, I find that in all other respects
they did appear identical, hence that the conclusion arrived at by
Prof. Bean, that “the _gardneri_ and the _irideus_ (or rainbow trout of
McCloud River), are identical seems well founded. If so, and my crude
supposition that the Clarkii, obtained in Piseco Lake near Sitka are
also identical with the gardneri turns out to be correct, there can be
a condensation of nomenclature, which will lead to at least one valuable
result from this paper.
“No sooner had the barbed hook fastened in its insidious hold, and the
impaled monarch learned that he was captive, than every effort of his
lithe and agile frame was brought into play to recover freedom. In every
struggle, in every effort to burst thee bonds that made him captive,
there was an utter recklesness of consequences, a disregard for life
that was previously unknown, as from side to side of the pool he rushed,
or headlong stemmed the sweeping current. Nor did the hero confine
himself to His own element; again and again he burst from its surface
to fall back fatigued, but not conquered. The battle was a severe one, a
struggle to the death; and when the landing net placed the victim at
my feet, I felt that he had died the death of a hero. Such was my first
sea-trout, no gamer, truly, than hundreds I have captured since;
but what can be expected of a race of which every member is a
hero?”—_Parker Gilmore_.
“If, indeed, you be an angler, join us and welcome, for then it is known
to you that no man is in perfect condition to enjoy scenery unless
he have a fly-rod in his hand and a fly-book in his pocket.”—_Wm. G.
Prime_.
“It was something more than a splendid trout that he brought to our view
as we met him at the landing. The young heart in the old body—the
genuine enthusiasm of the veteran angler—the glorification of the
gentle art which has soothed and comforted many an aged philosopher—all
this he revealed to us, and we wanted to lift the grand old man to our
shoulders and bear him in reverent triumph up the ascent.”—A. Judd
Northrop.
“From the fisherman’s point of view, the sea trout is equal to the
finest grilse that ever ascended Tay or Tweed, exceeding, as he does,
for gameness and pertinacity every other British fish.”—_David
Foster_.
[Illustration: 0056]
1. Silver Doctor.
2. Scarlet Ibis.
3. Black June.
4. Gray Drake.
5. Captain.
6.’Academy.
“As to flies, the indifference of sea-trout about kind, when they are in
the humor to take any, almost warrants the belief of some anglers that
they leap in mere sport at whatever chances to be floating. It is true
they will take incredible combinations, as if color-blind and blind to
form. But experiments on their caprice are not safe. If their desire is
to be tempted, that may most surely be done with three insects, adapted
to proper places and seasons. One need not go beyond the range of a
red-bodied fly with blue tip and wood-duck wings for ordinary use, a
small all gray fly for low water in bright light, and a yellowish fly,
green striped and winged with curlew feathers, for a fine cast under the
alders for the patriarchs.”—_A. R. Macdonough_.
“His tackle, for brieht airless days, is o’ gossamere; and at a wee
distance aff, you think he’s fishin’ without ony line ava, till whirr
gangs the pirn, and up springs the sea-trout, silver-brieht, twa yards
out o’ the water, by a delicate jerk o’ the wrist, hyucked inextricably
by the tongue clean ower the barb o’ the kirby-bend. Midge-flees!”—_The
Ettrick Shepherd_.
“O, sir, doubt not but that Angling is an art; is it not an art to
deceive a trout with an artificial fly?”—_Izaak-Walton._
“Sea-trout show themselves wherever salmon are found, but not always
simultaneously with them. In rivers where the salmon run begins in
May or early June, you need not look for sea-trout in any considerable
numbers before well on into July. Intermediately they are found in
tide-water at the mouths of the salmon rivers, and often in such numbers
and of such weight as give the angler superb sport.”—_George Dawson_.
SEA-TROUT.
By Fitz James Fitch.
Sunday morning, August 2, 1874, found us, Mr. A. R. Macdonough and
me, at Tadousac, a French. Canadian village, very small for its age,
situated on the northeast shore of the Saguenay River, one and a half
miles from the junction of its dark and mighty waters with the turbid
and mightier St. Lawrence. This day was the beginning of the culmination
of four months of preparation for a month’s release from the business
world, its toil, care and worry. The preparations began with the payment
of $150 in gold—$171.20 currency—the rent named in a lease securing
to us the exclusive right to fish a river on the north shore of, and
emptying into, the St. Lawrence many miles below the Saguenay. We left
New York sweltering in a temperature that sent the mercury up to the
nineties; were fanned by the cool evening breeze of the Hudson, and
later by the cooler breath of the old Catskills, around which cluster
the recollections and associations of thirty years of my life. We had
travelled by rail to Montreal, 412 miles, and spent a day there; by
steamboat to Quebec, 180 miles, where we passed twenty-four hours.
We had left this, the most interesting city of English-speaking North
America, in the morning by steamboat, and, after a day of delights
upon this majestic river, the St. Lawrence, reached L’Anse à l’Eau, the
landing for Tadousac, 130 miles, in the evening of August 1st.
We felt as we walked out upon the wide piazza of the Tadousac Hotel
that
“summer Sunday morn
When Nature’s face was fair,”
and looked up that mysterious river, the Saguenay, and upon its
castellated mountains of granite, that indeed “the lines had fallen to
us in pleasant places.” We had reached the end, as our course lay, of
railroads and steamboat lines, and must finish our journey in _chaloupe_
and birch-bark canoe. We were there to leave civilization and its
conveniences for nature and primitive modes of life. In the story I
am relating my progress up to this point has been as rapid as was our
transit. From this point on it must correspond with our slower mode of
progression; and hence there must be more of detail in what follows.
I hope, but cannot expect, that the reader will find the change as
agreeable and free from irksomeness as we found our _chaloupe_, canoe,
tent, and life in the woods.
After an excellent breakfast, we lighted cigars and walked down to the
humble cottage of my guide, David, on the beach of the little bay of
Tadousac, who had in charge our tents, stores, camp equipments,
and three new birch-bark canoes, ordered months before,
and for which we paid $75 in gold. David paddled us out to our
_chaloupe_, anchored in the bay, and introduced me to Captain Edward
Ovington, master, and his nephew, Fabian, a lad of sixteen or seventeen
years, his mate. The _chaloupe_ was thirty feet “fore and aft;” beam,
9½ feet. Six or eight feet aft we called the quarter-deck. A
comfortable seat surrounded three sides of it, affording sittings for
eight or ten persons. Next forward of this, and separated from it by a
bulkhead, was a space of six or eight feet for freight. Next came our
cabin, eight by nine feet, and just high enough to enable us to sit
upright on the low shelf which was to serve as a seat by day and bed
at night. Then came the forecastle, in which was a very small cooking
stove. The vessel was rigged with main and topmast, strengthened by
iron shrouds, with a large mainsail, topsail, jib and “jigger,” as it
is called by Canadian boatmen. It was in respect to the jigger that the
craft differed from a sloop-rigged yacht or boat. Clear aft, and back
of the rudder-post, was a mast about fifteen feet high; running from
the stern of the vessel was a stationary jigger boom, something like the
jib-boom, except that it was horizontal; on these was rigged a sail in
shape like the mainsail. The boat was a fair sailer, strong, well built,
and from four to six tons burden. In returning to the hotel we stopped
at and entered the little French Roman Catholic Church. It is not known
when it was erected. Jacques Cartier, in his second visit to America,
in 1535, explored the Saguenay; and Father Marquette made Tadousac his
residence for a short time. When he first came to this country in 1665,
tradition tells us, he established a mission there and built a log
chapel on the site where the church we entered stands. The latter is a
wooden building, about twenty-five by thirty feet, with a handsome altar
placed in a recess chancel, the rear wall of which is adorned with three
oil paintings. The centre one, over the altar, was the Crucifixion.
A small porch, or vestibule, of rough boards, had been added in modern
times. A little antique bell swung in the belfry on the east gable,
which was surmounted by an iron floriated cross. The church was filled
with devout _habitans_, mainly—there was a sprinkling of summer
boarders and anglers—who listened with apparent interest to the
extempore sermon of a young French priest of prepossessing appearance
and manner. In the afternoon I attended the English Episcopal Church,
about a mile from the hotel, and midway between Tadousac and L’Anse
à l’Eau. Here I felt quite at home, enjoyed the services, and joined
heartily in the prayer for the “Queen, the Royal Family, and all who are
in authority.” I was compelled to put a U. S. greenback, to represent my
contribution of one dollar, upon the plate. I have been sorry ever
since that I did not secure a reputation for honesty and fair dealing by
adding a dime to pay the premium on gold, and thus make good our (then)
depreciated currency.
August 3d.—A gray flannel suit and shirt were donned this morning.
Our fishing clothes and paraphernalia were packed in large canvas bags,
toilet articles, etc., in grip sacks, and all else left in our Saratoga
trunks, and in charge of the hotel manager until our return. At 11
o’clock we walked down to the beach where David and the Captain met us
with our respective canoes. I asked “Dah-veede” (he was very particular
about the pronunciation of his name), “how shall I dispose of myself in
this cranky thing?”