then the fly-book, and soon the stores of experience and knowledge
garnered up through long years, wheresoever we meet a ‘Brother of the
Angle’; and that to us ‘angling is an employment of our idle time,’;
that therein we find ‘a rest to the mind, a cheerer of the spirits, a
diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of the
passions, a procurer of contentedness, and that it begets habits of
peace and patience in chose that possess and practice it.’”—_Thaddeus
Norris_.
“Fly-fishing holds the same relation to bait-fishing that poetry does to
prose. Not only the fly, but every implement of the fly-fisher’s outfit
is a materialized poem.”—_James A. Henshall, M.D._
“Between the tyro and the proficient grayling fisher there exists a
wider gulf than is the case with the experienced and inexperienced in
any other branch in the whole art of fishing. Practical skill and
general artistic bearing are more fully exemplified in fishing for
grayling, than for trout and salmon, whilst upon the same ground
the unskilled efforts of the bungler stand at a yet more glaring
contrast.”—_David Foster_.
“Hooking a large grayling, I had good evidences of his plucky qualities;
the pliant rod bent as he struggled against the line, curling his body
around columns of water that failed to sustain his grasp, and setting
his great dorsal fin like an oar backing water, while we cautiously
worked him in, his tender mouth requiring rather more careful handling
than would be necessary for a trout; making a spurt up stream, he
requires a yielding line, but after a time he submits to be brought in,
rallying for a dart under the boat, or beneath a log, as an attempt is
made to place the landing net under him.”—_Professor Milner_.
[Illustration: 0102]
13. Bee.
14. Tomah Jo.
15. “No Name.”
16. Blue Bottle.
17. Grasshopper.
18. Canada.
“Do not despair. There was—alas! that I must say there was—an
illustrious philosopher, who was nearly of the age of fifty before he
made angling a pursuit, yet he became a distinguished fly-fisher.”—_Sir
Humphry Davy_.
“Fly-fishing for grayling and trout are not altogether identical. Both
are frequently found in the same water, and are to be taken with the
same cast of flies. Finer tackle, as a rule, is required in the case of
the former, as also smaller and brighter flies.” —_David Foster_.
“The grayling generally springs entirely out of the water when first
struck by the hook, and tugs strongly at the line, requiring as much
dexterity to land it safely as it would to secure a trout of six times
the size.”—_Dr. Richardson._
“Grayling will often take the fly under water, rising so quietly that
you will scarcely see any rise or break of the water at all. It is
desirable, therefore, to watch the line narrowly, and to strike whenever
you think it stops or checks, and you will now and then be surprised,
although there is no break in the water, to find a good grayling on the
hook. For, as is often the case with trout, the big ones are very quiet
risers.”—_Francis Francis._
“To be a perfect fisherman you require more excellencies than are
usually to be found in such a small space as is allotted to a man’s
carcass.”—_Parker Gilmore_.
“The trout has, so to speak, a Herculean cast of beauty; the
grayling rather that of an Apollo—light, delicate, and gracefully
symmetrical.”—_H. Cholmondely-Pennell_.
THE GRAYLING.
By Fred Mather.
The very name of my beloved fish calls up a host of recollections that
form themselves into a picture that, above all others, is the most
cheerful one adorning memory’s wall. We old fellows live largely in the
past, and can afford to let younger men revel in the future; and in my
own case, I can say that, having filled Shakespeare’s apothegm of “one
man in his time plays many parts,” there are often retrospects of life
as a boyish angler, an older hunter, trapper, and general vagabond on
the frontiers; a soldier; and a later return to a first love. Of these
glances over the shoulder of time, a few trips to Northern Michigan and
its grayling streams mark the journey of life with a white stone.
When Prof. Cope announced, in 1865, that he had received specimens from
Michigan, the English anglers in America were incredulous, and there
was some spicy correspondence, in the sportsmen’s papers of those
days, concerning the identity of the fishes. As usual, the scientist
discomfited the angler, and proved his position. The fish had long been
known to the raftsmen and natives of Michigan by local names, but had
never been identified as the historic grayling. Some eight years
after the discovery of Prof. Cope that we had the grayling in American
waters; Mr. D. H. Pitzhugh, Jr., sent some of them to Mr. Charles
Hallock, then editor of _Forest and Stream_, and they were shown in New
York to the doubters, who even then were not convinced.
Mr. Pitzhugh took great interest in the new fish, which, as a lumberman
and an angler, he had long known as a “Michigan trout,” but had never
recognized as the gentle grayling, and he has since done more than any
other man to popularize it and introduce it to anglers.
He invited Mr. Hallock, Prof. Milner, and myself to come up and fish for
it, and we each extolled its attractions in the press. As a consequence,
the fish has been nearly exterminated by vandals who fish for count, and
the waters where we fished at first are nearly barren.
Of all game fishes the grayling is my favorite. It is gamy but not
savage; one does not feel the savage instinct to kill that the black
bass or the pike raises in him, but rather a feeling of love for a
vigorous fighter for its life who is handicapped with a tender mouth.
To me the fish is always thought of as the “gentle grayling,” and the
“golden-eyed grayling,” although the latter epithet is not always a
correct one, owing to the changes in the iris.
In fishing for grayling it is well to use a mediumsized fly of a subdued
color; a yellow body and a brown wing is the fly that should be used
if only one is recommended; it is a most killing combination. Brown
Hackles, Bed Ibis, Professor, Queen of the Water, and other trout flies
are also killing; but the first-mentioned fly, whose name I do not know,
owing to a defective memory and the vagaries of fly nomenclature, is the
most killing, and a cast into the upper edge of a pool below a rapid is
usually most successful. *
* Oak-fly.
The beauty of the grayling is of a kind that is better appreciated after
some acquaintance. The bright colors of its “magnificent dorsal,” as the
phrase went a few years ago, are not its chief claim to admiration. Its
shapely contour, striped ventrals, iridescent caudal, and its beatific
countenance win the heart of the angler and make him love the grayling,
and feel that it is a fish to respect for the higher qualities expressed
in its physiognomy, and not one that it is merely a satisfaction to kill
as he would a savage pike. True, we kill the grayling, but we do it in a
different spirit from that in which we kill some other thing. It was
not only my good fortune to know “Uncle Thad” Norris, but to have fished
with him. The dear lovable old man, who long since paid his fare to the
grim ferryman, once said: “When I look into a grayling’s eye I am sorry
I killed it; but that feeling never prevents me from making another cast
just to see if another will rise.”
In another century Norris will be more read and appreciated than he is
to-day. Of all American angling writers of this century he will stand
foremost, and yet he never wrote as fully as he intended of the fish
that he told me had afforded him more pleasure than any other. He had
not revised his “American Angler’s Book” for some time before his death,
and so his remarks on Back’s grayling must stand as he wrote them before
the era of the Michigan grayling. He there says of the Arctic grayling:
“The grayling being a fish in the capture of which the American angler
cannot participate, we give no account of the manner of angling for
them, but refer the reader who may have interest or curiosity on that
score to English authors.” He intended to revise that sentence and
give his own experience, but the Reaper judged him ripe for the harvest
before he did it. In my opinion he was one of those who should never
have been ripe for that harvest, and his loss to our angling literature
was a severe one.
That the grayling will take bait, truth requires the admission; would
that it were not so. I would prefer that its food was the soaring
insect, or even the floating thistledown, with an occasional feather
from an angel’s wing dropped in the moonlit flood; but science has
laid bare its interior with the searching scalpel, and the Caesarian
operation has brought forth the lowly caddis-worm and other larvae, and
the bait-fisher has taken advantage of the knowledge and pandered to the
baser appetite of the fish.
That the grayling does not eat other fish is proved by its small month,
as well as by its known habits. It is not a leaper, like the trout, but
takes the fly from the surface with merely an exposure of a portion of
its head. When struck, it makes a rigorous rush, and, if it does not
fight as long as the trout does, it gives much resistance at the last
moment by the sidelong movement it makes when being reeled in, which is
due to the size and curvature of its dorsal fin. It inhabits only the
coldest of streams, and while the grayling of Europe is found in the
trout streams, it is not to be found there in Michigan.
We have several species of grayling in America. Two of these only are
accessible to anglers, the Michigan grayling, _Thymallus tricolor_, and
one at the head waters of the Yellowstone, the _T. Montanus_, The other
species are Arctic.
The Michigan fish is reported to grow to nearly two pounds weight; I
never saw one that I thought would weigh much over a pound, and I have
taken them in spawning season for the purpose of procuring their eggs.
Whether this fish will bear acclimatization to other waters, I cannot
say. I raised a few until a year old at my former trout farm in Western
New York, and when I left them I opened the pond and let them into the
stream below, but none have ever been taken there, as far as I know. It
seems a pity to allow this elegant fish to become extinct, as it will in
a few years in its limited habitat, and if opportunity offered I would
again try to domesticate it.
The trout-fisher needs no special directions nor tackle to fish for
grayling; he may cast in the usual manner, only remembering that the
fish has a very tender mouth, and must be treated with this fact ever
in mind. The Michigan grayling streams are not suited for wading, and,
therefore, fishing from a boat is the rule. This may not suit some
anglers, to whom I can only say, every one to his fancy, but no wading
for me; dry feet are more comfortable than wet ones, and boat-fishing or
bank-fishing are more suitable to my taste, than to be immersed up to my
hips in cold water for half a day.
I have killed, I believe, every game fish in America east of the Rocky
Mountains, except the salmon, for which I have a rod in readiness, that
I hope to use soon, and I can say that while I do not think the grayling
the superior of all of them for gameness, yet there is something of
romance in the remembrance of the grayling, a kind of sentimental
retrospect, that endears the fish to me above all others. Whether it was
owing to the pine woods and the genial companionship, I do not care to
consider; but each year there comes a longing to repeat the pleasant
experiences of the Au Sable and its delicate grayling.
TROUT FLIES
“The trout-fly does not resemble any known species of insect. It is a
‘conventionalized’ creation, as we say of ornamentation. The theory is,
that, fly-fishing being a high art, the fly must not be a tame imitation
of nature, but an artistic suggestion of it. It requires an artist to
construct one; and not every bungler can take a bit of red flannel, a
peacock’s feather, a flash of tinsel thread, a cock’s plume, a section
of a hen’s wing, and fabricate a tiny object that will not look like any
fly, but still will suggest the universal conventional fly.”—_Charles
Dudley Warner_.
“When you fish with a flie, if it be possible, let no pary of your line
touch the water, but your flie only.”—_Izaak Walton_.
[Illustration: 0112]
1. Coachman.
2. Leadwing Coach.
3. Royal Coachman.
4. Coachman red tip.
5. Gilt Coachman.
6. Cowdung.
7. Fern.
8. Blue Jay.
9. Abbey.
10. Red Ant.
11. Black Ant.
12. Seth Green.
13. Professor.
14. Blue Professor.
15. Dark Stone.
“A combination of English Jay is one of the most effective flies in the
world, as it can be put into as gay a fly as you please, and also into
as plain a one as you like.”—_Capt. Peel (“Dinks”)_.
“When I think of the great secrets of Nature locked up from our
knowledge (yet under our eyes at every turn of your daily duty), and
imagine what a mine of intellectual wealth remains to be opened out
by quickness of sight, clearness of intellect, and the pickaxe of hard
work, a great panorama opens before me. How ignorant—how terribly
ignorant—are we of God’s great laws as applied to the creatures
that live in the element in which we are forbidden to exist!”—_Frank
Buckland_.
“The ancient belief in the stoppage of sport during a thunderstorm is
not strictly true.”—_David Foster_.
“A fish will _hook himself only_ in cases where the fly first touches
the water at the end of a straight line, or when the line is being
withdrawn smartly for a new cast. In all other cases the skill of the
angler must be employed.”—_Charles Hallock_.
“We had determined on a feast, and trout were to be its daintiest
dainty. We waited until the confusing pepper of a shower had passed away
and left the water calm. We tossed to the fish humbugs of wool, silk
and feathers, gauds such as captivate the greedy or the guileless. The
trout, on the lookout for novelty, dashed up and swallowed disappointing
juiceless morsels, and with them swallowed hooks. Then, O Walton! O
Davy! O Scrope! ye fishers hard by taverns! luxury was ours of which ye
know nothing. Under the noble yellow birch we cooked our own fish. We
used our scanty kitchen-battery with skill. We cooked with the high art
of simplicity. Where Nature has done her best, only fools rush in to
improve. On the salmonids, fresh and salt, she has lavished her
creative refinements. Cookery should only ripen and develop.”—_Theodore
Winthrop_.
“As a general thing, it is a waste of time to be forever changing your
flies. If the trout are not rising, it is entirely useless to fling an
assortment of flies at them.”—_T. S. Up de Graff, M.D._
“In taking the fly, I award the palm to the trout, as he usually throws
himself out of the water to do so. The salmon does not, he scarcely more
than shows himself; but after being hooked the sport commences, and it
is all activity to the death, rarely any sulking.”—_Charles W. Stevens_
A TROUTING TRIP TO ST. IGNACE ISLAND.
By W. Thomson
Towards the end of August, 1877, I had become pretty well fagged out
with office work and felt that I must have a week or two of out-door
recreation or sport of some kind, so I naturally decided upon a
troutfishing expedition; and I selected, as the scene, the island of St.
Ignace, in Lake Superior, of which I had heard most excellent accounts
in regard to fish products. I had, it is true, caught a great many brook
trout throughout the summer, in small streams close at hand; but these
were mostly fish of inferior size, few indeed reaching one pound in
weight; while I was assured by an ancient fisherman of repute, that at
the Island, the real _Salmo fontinalis_ often attained to four, five,
and even seven pounds.
This was the kind of ground I had been, for many years, anxious to find,
and I made up my mind to try it at all events.
The first thing to do was to secure two suitable companions, and a man
or boy of all work. The former I quickly enlisted in the persons of a
genial M.D. and an overworked limb of the law. The latter opportunely
turned up in the shape of “Jim,” a colored youth of sixteen, as black
as the ten of spades, but no less celebrated for his culinary skill
than for his impish tricks and imperturbable good humor and honesty. To
banish formality once for all, and put things upon an easy and familiar
footing at the start, I christened the M.D. “Squills” and the lawyer
“Bluffy,” out of compliment to his usual style of treating witnesses
in court. In deference to my advanced age and _general good looks_, the
boys called me “Governor,” I being then about fifty-three and neither
of them thirty. Our supplies, consisting of a ten by twelve tent, three
camp beds and bedding, two small boats, a stock of provisions for
six men for two weeks, one rifle, two fowling pieces, and our fishing
tackle, were soon got together, and in twenty-four hours from the first
proposal, we were ready to take the cars for Collingwood. At that point
we secured an ample supply of ice; and then embarked with our traps on
board a steamer bound for Duluth and intermediate ports, and touching at
St. Ignace on her way.
This island is situated in Canadian waters, about thirty-five miles from
the mouth of Nepigon River, forty-seven miles east of the famous Silver
Islet and some seventy from Thunder Bay. I say island, but there are in
fact _two_ called St. Ignace; the largest being about sixteen miles
long by ten wide; with generally bluff shores and high headlands, one
of these rising to a height of thirteen hundred and fifty feet above the
lake level. The smaller island, at which steamers touch and upon which
we camped, is separated from the larger by a channel of from fifty to
a hundred yards wide, and is about two miles by a half a mile in size,
having one bold headland five hundred feet high. Neither island is
inhabited except by occasional Indians and other fishermen; nor do
either of them, so far as I observed, contain any agricultural land, the
formation being rock. Both, however, as well as contiguous groups, are
mostly covered with a thick growth of spruce, balsam, birch and mountain
ash. This last is so plentiful that in the autumn its brilliant red
leaves may be seen from quite a distance at sea, framed in a background
of dark green spruce, and presenting a most charming view. The larger
island contains in itself numerous small lakes which abound in pike
(_E. Indus_), and what we Canadians call yellow pickerel (_Stizostedium
vitreum_), really pike-perch. No one bothers catching these, however, as
the surrounding waters yield an enormous supply of choicer fish,
among which are said to be ten varieties of the salmon family; besides
whitefish, some of which attain to seventeen pounds in weight! I took
some trouble to ascertain the local names by which the various species
of trout are known, and the greatest attested weight of individuals of
each. I am indebted to Mr. Wm. Boon, of Barrie, Ontario, a professional
fisherman who spends four months of every year upon the island, for the
following list, which I give without vouching in any way for this queer
addition to the salmon family:
1. Salmon trout, weight up to 70 lbs.
2. “Siskowitt,” weight up to 12 „
3. Half-breed Siskowitt, weight up to 5 „
4. “Potgut,” very inferior fish, weight up to 12 „
5. Rock or black trout, weight up to 40 „
6. Large gray or shovel-nose trout, weight up to 70 „
7. “California trout,” yellow spots and flesh,
weight up to 10 „
8. “Half-breed red trout,” weight up to 15 „
9. Common brook or speckled trout, weight up to 7 „
10. “Red trout,” weight up to 42 „
All of these, of course, are local names, but the fish are all true
trout; crossed and re-crossed, I presume, _ad infinitum_. The brook
trout is the only species found here with a square tail, those of all
the others being more or less forked. The “red trout” is far superior to
any of its confrères, and is called by the Indians—Pugwashooaneg, that
is, Paysplatt—District-fish, as it is taken only in this locality, and
only in the fall of the year as a rule. The Indians come from Nepigon
expressly to fish for it, and care for no other trout in comparison.
It is much more highly esteemed than the brook trout. This very day on
which I write this article, I had a salted piece of one of these “red
trout” for dinner and found the flesh of a bright pink, and the flavor
exquisite. I shall refer to it again.
On our passage from Collingwood we touched at the following ports and
“landings,” viz.: Meaford, Owen Sound, Killarney, Little Current,
Bruce Mines, Hilton, or St. Joseph Island, Garden River, and the Sault.
Thence, via Michipicoton Island to St. Ignace. I may say here, before I
forget it, that among the useful productions of this last are incredible
quantities of huckleberries and “sand cranberries.” The former were just
in season at the date of our visit, and after the first day “Jim” always
gave us capital puddings and pies made from them.
We found many pleasant people on board the steamer, with whom we picked
acquaintance in that free and easy manner peculiar the world over to
anglers.
After a delightful trip of four days, we made the landing on our Island
at about five o’clock on a beautiful evening, and, having got our whole
outfit ashore, selected a charming spot in the midst of a spruce grove
as a camping ground. The tent was put up, beds and bedding arranged,
supplies for present use unpacked, a table improvised and things
generally “set out” in a most orderly manner by the Doctor and “Bluffy,”
while I employed myself in the construction of a fish corral, the use
of which will be seen further on. Meantime, “Jim” had, with a few loose
stones, made for himself a very passable fire-place, and soon had tea
and coffee prepared, several appetizing dishes cooked, and called us to
supper at 6.30. After a hearty and enjoyable meal, we proceeded to put
the finishing touches to our work; sorted out and overhauled our fishing
tackle; caught a few minnows and placed them in a perforated bucket
in the lake; and before dark were all in ship-shape and thoroughly
comfortable. “Jim” slung his hammock between and beneath two umbrageous
trees, and by eight o’clock, with a full stomach and clear conscience,
was roosting in it, happy as a lord! From this coign of vantage, with
the gathering darkness to hide his _blushes_, he favored us with several
choice negro melodies rendered in a style and with a pathos which any
“professional” might have envied. As the night deepened we drank in with
appropriate senses all the delights of our surroundings. The great fire
before which we three sat, lighting up with weird and fantastic effects
the sombre foliage of the adjacent forest; the plaintive cry of the
distant loon; the harsher notes of the bittern, and the even, gentle
murmur of the softly lapping waves, all united to inspire us with a
sense of freedom and happiness unknown to the busy world. Serene and
contented, we “turned in” at ten, with blissful anticipations for the
morrow. We had not forgotten that prime necessity of a well-ordered
camp, light, but had brought with us several pounds of sperm candles,
two gallons of oil and a good swinging lamp, which, suspended from the
centre-pole, not only rendered the tent cheerful, but gave facilities
for performing with ease and comfort the thousand and one little jobs
which precious daylight could not be wasted upon. Reader, did you ever
“camp out” in the midst of a dense grove of pine or spruce trees? If
not, you have yet to enjoy the luxury of the most balmy and refreshing
sleep which can bless mortal man. There is a something in the delicious
aroma of the resinous woods which induces a perfect repose, obtainable,
in my experience, through no other means. A sound, sweet, wholesome, and
yet not heavy sleep; quiet and dreamless, and from which you awake, not
drowsy and cross, but with a buoyancy of spirits, a strength of body and
clearness of mind which make even hard daily toil seem a mere pastime.
And so, with thankful hearts sank we to rest on this our first night at
St. Ignace. There are no black flies on the Island, and the season was
too far advanced for mosquitoes to be troublesome; facts which added
not a little to our serenity of mind and took away the last excuse for
ill-humor.