sport, for, in my opinion, no portion of the United States offers such
advantages for fly-fishing as portions of Florida during the winter
months. The health of the State is beyond cavil or dispute; the climate
is all the most fastidious can ask; there is an almost total absence of
insect pests, and last though not least, a greater variety of fish
that will take the fly than in any other section of the Union. My own
experience is mainly based on opportunities for observation on the
south-west coast, and it is possible that points on the eastern coast,
as the Indian River inlet and the outlet of Lake Worth, may offer
advantages over the section referred to.
As far as my knowledge extends, fly-fishers are indebted to my
friend, Geo. C. Johnson, of Bridgeport, Conn., for the development
of fly-fishing in Florida. Some years since I met Mr. Johnson on his
arrival in this city _en route_ to Homosassa. He remarked that he had
brought his fly-rod with him, and I suggested that a heavy bass rod
would prove more serviceable.
On the evening of his arrival at Homosassa he visited the dock in front
of Jones’ house, and noticed fish breaking water near the shore. He
proceeded to the house, rigged his rod, and was followed to the dock
by a number of laughing sceptics, who ridiculed the “spindly rod and
feather baits.” In compliance with Mr. Johnson’s request, Dr. Ferber
rowed him a short distance from the dock, and the fun commenced with
large-mouthed bass and red trout; and from that evening fly-fishing
became an established institution on the south-west coast of Florida.
For a number of years Dr. Ferber has devoted his winters to fly-fishing
on the south-west coast, and it is to be regretted that he was not
requested to give his ripe and ample experience, instead of one who is
far beneath him in experience and ability to wield the split bamboo or
pen.
The next season after Mr. Johnson’s visit to Homosassa Mr. Francis
Endicott, of New York, visited the locality and indulged in fly-fishing.
He informed me that he had captured with the fly eight distinct species
of fish on the Homosassa River; and I will ask where else in the United
States can the devotee of the gentle art capture eight distinct species
of fish with the fly on a river but ten miles in length?
My friend, Dr. Ferber, on his return from the southwest coast in April
last, visited me, and stated that he had caught on that coast, with
artificial flies, eleven distinct species of fish. Among the number
I may mention large-mouthed bass (trout of the South), channel bass,
cavalli, ravallia, skip jacks, sea trout, brown snappers, roach, and
three species of bream.
Instead of wading icy-cold and over-fished brooks, tearing clothes and
flesh in creeping through briers and brush, and being subjected to the
sanguinary attention of mosquitoes and black flies in bringing to creel
a few fingerlings, in Florida the angler can cast his fly from a sandy
beach or boat, inhale an invigorating atmosphere, bask in the sunshine,
and capture specimens of the finny tribe, the weight of which can be
determined by pounds instead of ounces.
Sea trout of the South are closely allied to the weak fish of the North,
and frequent rapid waters, oyster beds and weedy flats. They range from
one to five pounds, are good biters and make a noble resistance to avoid
the landing net.
Large-mouthed black bass (trout of the South) exist in great numbers in
the lakes and streams of the State. In very clear lakes and streams they
are not disposed to indulge in artificial baits. As fighters they are
unworthy of the notice of experts. It has been my lot to capture them
in many localities, and I have found that after the first few struggles
they open their mouths and come to gaff like a grain bag.
Brown snappers exist in countless numbers in some of the streams of the
State—as in the Homosassa. They range from six ounces to one pound, and
cannot resist the temptation to capture a hook decorated with feathers.
They are good biters and full of game. Owing to the presence of a number
of rat-like teeth, they play sad havoc with flies; and we would advise
those who propose engaging in the capture of this fish to provide an
ample supply of feathery lures.
Skip-jacks (or bone-fish) visit the streams in schools. They range from
two to six pounds. They readily take a fly and die game. Owing to
their build, size of fins, and muscular development, they are worthy of
notice. On one occasion I was camped at Little Gasparilla pass, and at
the bay side of the inlet there existed an eddy in which I could see
hundreds of skip-jacks. For some time I amused myself by casting, and
the moment the bait would touch the water the surface would be in a
boil. I would strike and the next instant a bone-fish would be two or
three feet in the air. As a rule they enter the streams with the flood
tide, and as they are constantly breaking the water they can be followed
in a boat. By following the fish on the flood and ebb the rodster may
enjoy a number of hours of exciting sport. Between Esteno and Marco
passes I have seen them for hours at a time feeding on minnows near the
beach.
The Ravallia is a fish with which I am unacquainted, although I have
reason to believe that it exists in quantity at certain points on the
south-west coast. My friend Dr. Ferber, informed me that in one of his
cruises he entered Billy Bow Legs Creek and noticed a deep pool. He made
a cast and landed a ravallia. Nearly every cast he would land one or two
ranging from one to three pounds, unless a ravenous cavalli interfered.
The cavalli of large size would seem to tire of the flouncing and
floundering of their neighbors, and would join in the fray, when the
doctor would part with a fly or leader. The doctor assured me that
the sport was kept up until he was surfeited. He describes the fish as
resembling a pike perch of the North, and is loud in its praise as a
game fish. Friends have informed me that they have captured specimens of
this fish, with cut bait, weighing thirty pounds. My impression is, that
if pools and inlets south of Punta Passa were thoroughly tried with the
fly that the piscator would be rewarded with large-sized specimens.
Bream of several species exist in great numbers in many of the streams
and lakes of the State. They range from four ounces to one pound, and
afford considerable sport on a light rod. Roach are not plentiful, but
there they exist they will not refuse a brown hackle.
In many of the streams of the State war-mouthed perch exist in numbers,
ranging from one to three pounds. When the streams are low, they readily
take a fly, and give the angler all lie can attend to.
In some of the creeks tributary to the St. Johns’ and in some of the
interior lakes, pickerel exercise their snapping propensities, and do
not object to appropriate a gaudy fly in the early mom or at the close
of the day.
On the Eastern Coast, more especially at Indian River inlet, small blue
fish congregate in numbers during the winter months, and at times will
not refuse a fly. They are fair fighters, and as the piscator can fish
from a sandy beach, much enjoyment can be secured.
In Florida cat fish will take a fly, and I may also add a spinner.
In this State we have a number of species of this fish, and one is a
surface feeder. In the evening, when they are feeding on the surface,
they will not reject a large and gaudy fly. To those who have been
accustomed to capture with a stout rod diminutive specimens of catties,
I will say, hook on to a catty weighing from six to twelve pounds and
there will be “music in the air,” and unless skill is exercised on
the part of the fisherman the leader will go to where the “woodbine
twineth.”
In Florida, as everywhere else, the best fishing is near where A., B.
or C. run a hotel or keep a boarding house, or where certain steamboats
make a terminal landing. But in my experience the best places to fish,
as a rule, are where there are no hotels or specimens of the colored
persuasion with their cast nets. When “I go a-fishing” I leave
civilization, hotels, and boarding-houses in the rear.
The best points for fly-fishing for large-mouthed bass are on the
upper St. Johns, the tributaries of Indian river, the Kessimmee and the
streams and lagoons on the south-west coast. For pickerel and bream the
best points are the tributaries of the St. Johns between Mandarin and
Lake Monroe. For war-mouthed perch, the best streams will be found in
Alachua County.
From all that I can glean from gentlemen who have fished the locality,
the lower Indian River and its tributaries will furnish a fine field for
the fly-caster. West of Cedar Keys to St. Marks is a shoal coast covered
with marine algæ; and the coast line is cut up with a number of small
streams stocked—nay, swarming—with fish. This section is uninhabited,
the streams have not been fished, and a fine field for sport awaits the
fisherman. In addition, hand line or bass rod fishing can be enjoyed for
sheepshead and channel bass. The woods abound with deer, the hummocks
contain plenty of turkeys, and the bays and grassy flats during the
winter are alive with ducks, and in certain localities geese and brant
will be found. Beech birds, as snipe and curlews, can be bagged in
quantity.
The first stream worthy of notice on the southwest coast is the
Homosassa River, forty miles south of Cedar Keys. But this beautiful
river has lost its greatest attraction, “Mother Jones.” I have been
informed that she left Homosassa, and, as a sequence, there will be
wanting the clean rooms and beds, the stewed and scalloped oysters,
the aromatic coffee, the delicious breakfast bacon, and the luscious
sheepshead done to a turn. With “Mother Jones” will depart many of
the attractions of the place, more particularly the cuisine. I write
feelingly, for I was the first to make known the attractions of my
favorite Homosassa.
According to my friend, Dr. Ferber, Billy Bow Legs Creek, a tributary
of Sarasota Bay, presents many attractions to the fly-fisher, more
especially in the capture of cavalli and ravallia. Long Boat Inlet, an
entrance to this bay, must not be overlooked.
Many points in Charlotte Harbor offer inducements to the fly-fisher. If
he tires of using the split bamboo, he can troll with a spinner and land
large channel bass and cavalli; for diversement he can seat himself in
an arm chair on the dock at Punta Passa and imitate my friend Matthew
Quay (late Secretary of State of Pennsylvania), who landed fifty-six
large sheepshead in one hour. If dissatisfied with this description of
sport the piscator can indulge in the capture of Jew-fish, weighing from
one to three hundred pounds. On the Calloosahatchee, above the islands,
the fly caster can be satiated with sport in landing large-sized
cavalli. From Charlotte Harbor southward every entrance, bay, pass and
lagoon will afford royal sport.
Delicate mist-colored leaders are not a necessity, for Florida fish have
not been educated or posted with regard to the tricks of the craft. They
seem to recognize but little difference between a single strand of gut
and a clothes-line. The main things requisite are strong leaders and
large-sized hooks, for when fish are so plentiful and valueless the
fisherman is apt to try and see how many he can land within a given
period. With regard to flies, almost any of the more common ones will
answer a good purpose. My choice for channel bass, cavalli, sea trout
and bone fish is a large-sized gaudy fly with a large-sized hook.
To reach the south-west coast persons can go direct from Savannah or
Fernandina, or visit Jacksonville _en route_. At Cedar Keys, Tampa, or
Manatee they can charter a sloop or schooner of from four to six tons
for five or six dollars per day. This amount will cover captain, boy,
small boat, bedding, stove and cooking utensils. Fish, beach birds,
oysters and clams are plentiful, and the expense of the culinary
department will be from fifty cents to five dollars per capita per diem,
according to the Dutch proclivities of the persons comprising the party.
The coast is shallow, the ten-fathom line ranging from thirty to forty
miles from shore, and as a consequence there is no undertow, rollers or
heavy seas. The passage from Cedar Keys to Bay Biscayne can be made in a
small boat at almost any time. On one occasion the writer made the trip
from Key West to Cedar Keys in a boat sixteen feet in length.
Fly-fishing in Florida is a recent development, and it offers a large
field for experiment and investigation; and I trust that the period is
not far distant when the sport will be indulged in by the many. By
the first of January, 1884, Tampa will be reached from this city in
twenty-four hours via Sanford and Kissimmee. From what we know of
railroads in this State we feel assured that one will be completed to
Punta Passa within two years; when Charlotte Harbor and Estero Bay, the
greatest of fishing points, will be rendered accessible to all.
In preparing this article we have used the common names of fish, and
the reason for so doing will be obvious to all. In passing through this
city, if fly-fishers will call upon me between 12 m. and 2 P.M., I will
endeavor to smooth the road for them.
Jacksonville, Fla.
FLY-FISHING.
By Col. E. Z. C. Judson.—“Ned Buntline.”
Fishermen are _born_ such—not made! That is my private opinion,
publicly expressed. It is founded upon the experience of full half a
century on ocean, lake, river, and brook. I have taken a mature man with
me on a fishing trip, who had never cast “a line in pleasant places,”
lent him rod and tackle, made a few casts in his presence, caught
perhaps a half a dozen trout, and then watched his imitative power
combined with the tact _born_ in him. If he was one of the right sort he
would go right on improving every hour, and in a little while begin to
fill his creel with the best of us.
My personal knowledge of fish and fishing began early. My father had few
superiors as an angler, and trouting was his specialty. He made his own
rods, lines and flies. The first was a tapering ashen pole—generally
about ten feet long—scraped, oiled and varnished till it was as smooth
and bright as glass. The line was made from horse-hair and braided with
a care and patience that used to be a wonder to me.
The blue-jay, the red-headed woodpecker, the pheasant and wood-duck were
shot for fly-feathers. When I was a wee toddler in skirts I used to hold
hooks and snells and play at “helping papa.”
All this was done here at the head of the Delaware, where both my father
and myself were born. But a change came. When I was about six years old
my father bought a large tract of wild land in the wildest part of Wayne
County, Pennsylvania, and settled on it. The Lackawaxen Creek ran
right through it, and that then lovely stream was literally alive with
speckled trout. From the day we entered our log house there I was a
_fisher_-boy. I caught trout every day in the summer, for a big spring
rose within a rod of the house and from it ran a lively brook to the
main stream, ten rods away, and even a pin-hook and linen thread would
draw them out.
As I grew older I would go with my father to the big eddies and deep
holes, where he would lure the largest to his fly and I was only
too—too utterly happy when allowed to wade waist deep in the water to
carry or float his string of trout toward home.
Since then never a summer has passed, except when actively engaged in
naval or military service for my country, that has not found me fishing
somewhere. I have covered the best waters in Maine, New Hampshire and
Vermont; Canada and the British Provinces know me of old; California,
Oregon and British Columbia—all along the Big Rockies—have seen me
testing flies and bait, the former often tied rudely on the spur of
necessity, but generally very effectively. For where trout are _very_
plenty, food is scarce, and they will bite at anything. I speak of trout
mostly, for that is my _favorite_ fish. Salmon next, although the work
comes in when you strike anything over eight or ten pounds, and sport
degenerates when it becomes _labor_. I have heard of “labors of love,”
but I never took stock in anything of the kind.
In all this active piscatorial life, I have studied _Fishermen_ as
well as fish. And I have come to the conclusion which opens this
article—that fishermen are _born_ for it and can’t he manufactured out
of _raw_ material!
I have felt thankful to our Father above that nine out of ten of the
_tourists_ who take to the streams in easy reach, are indifferent
fishermen. For thereby the streams still contain fish. Were all who
fish in them skillful and hoggish, in a little while there would be no
fishing except in “far-away” places, difficult to reach.
I do not claim to hold a Master’s Degree as a fly-fisherman.
I do delight in the art, for one of the arts and sciences it surely is.
I have bowed my head in reverence before the skilled hand of my dear
friend, George Dawson—now beside the bright waters of the Happy Land
above. I have stood silent and pleased while Seth Green deftly made
casts which I could only feebly imitate.
Yet those who know me best say that I _can_ use a fly-rod and catch
trout and salmon therewith, so I essay a few words on the subject,
speaking only from my own experience. I have never been observant enough
to see a trout strout strike a fly with his tail, drown it and then eat
it. I always take a trout in the mouth on my fly—generally hooked in
the upper lip, showing that he does _his_ part of the business in a
straightforward way and does not come tail first to the lure.
I own to be a little particular about my rod, the middle joint not too
limber, but with back-bone as well as spring; it suits me if it tapers
so as to describe a perfect arc when the tip is brought near to the
butt. I specify no makers—though I own to favorites in that line. I
wish to make no petty jealousies here.
A rod as near ten feet long as may be, for trout fishing, weight from
seven to eight ounces, never over ten, with the reel close to and
_under_ the butt; an easy running click-reel; a line of braided hair and
silk, strong and weighty enough for a cast against the wind as well as
with it; a clear, strong, looped leader for a quick change of flies;
a book well supplied with the latter to give the speckled beauties a
choice, and I am ready for work.
The idea of special flies for special seasons of the year I have found
to be a humbug. Trout are exceedingly whimsical about flies. Watch those
that are on the stream, see which the trout leap for and get as near the
like of them as your book will allow.
Always, if possible, fish down stream. It is easier. You can detect
swirls, eddies, shaded pools, coverts of rock, mossy-banks and
overhanging branches, from above, better than below. Trout do not scare
so easily that a cast of fifteen or twenty feet will not find them ready
to rise if they are hungry. You have also the aid of the current in
guiding your fly to each coveted spot after it touches the water.
Enter a stream, say its average width is seventy-five or one hundred
feet, few of our mountain streams are so much, and a skilled rodster
can cover it with ease—for wading down lie chooses his water, makes his
casts, seldom over twenty or twenty-five feet of line to a cast, much of
oftener less, and in “good waters” fills his creel.
For a forward cast, with your line as far out as may be necessary
for the distance, throw your rod sharply back to an angle of not over
fifteen degrees, and then bring it forward quickly till, as your line
and flies are extended, the tip is on a level with your breast, never
lower so as to dip water. With a line “taut,” so to speak, if a trout
rises as your fly or flies touch the stream, a sharp, quick turn of the
wrist will strike the hook home and secure him. Your strike must be firm
and decisive; give the trout one second to understand and he _spits_ the
fly out. Laugh if you will, but that is what he does.
When hooked, if not too large for your tackle, _draw_ the trout swiftly
to you, _lift_ him out, and break his neck, by bending back the head
where it joins the back-bone. Thus he is out of pain, and does not
bruise and flop himself soft, while dying, in your creel. “Playing” a
trout for the mere fun of the thing, is unnecessary torture; besides,
you frighten more than you secure, in the process. A very large trout,
of course, must be weakened in the water, but many fishermen think there
is no sport without they “play” a fish, no matter how small he is.
Never cast a foot more line than you need. You cannot gather slack half
as easy as you can pay it out.
In regard to flies—I have found the brighter the day, as a general
thing, the darker fly do trout want. At early dawn, or in the soft
twilight of evening, a very light fly—a Coachman, is best. Next, Gray
Miller, and especially the Stone fly. I use more Coachmen, Black Gnats
and Stone flies in _one_ season, than I do of all other flies put
together in three summers.
Be sure, of all things, that your line runs easy through the standing
guides, or guide-rings. I like the former best.
In casting right or left, to reach under bushy or over-hanging limbs,
the same sharp, or quick action which makes an over-cast successful, is
required, and great care not to draw any slack line when your fly drops
where you want it.
Many fly-fishermen are considered adepts according to the _length_
rather than the grace and certainty of their casts. I do not think in
actual stream fishing an average of a day’s casting, would reach over
fifteen feet to a cast. I never made but one _very_ long cast in actual
angling in my life.
Once, on the bank of a mill-pond in the upper part of Alder Brook, in
Ulster County, N. Y., I saw a trout in shoal water, the largest I ever
caught in that vicinity. To reach him without alarm, I cast seventy-two
feet, _measured_ afterward from a knot on my line near my reel, and got
my fish.
He weighed two and a quarter pounds, and I had to play him some to save
him.
And now, with a word to young fishermen and old _beginners_, I will
close.
Learn first to cast a line and take a trout with bait before you try a
fly. You will thereby gain confidence, learn to hook your fish at the
instant he strikes, and gain the supple use of arm and wrist which makes
the fly-fisherman skillful.
My dear wife, by whose sick bed I pen these words, for one long joyous
summer in camp, fished by my side, using bait while she saw me casting
no lure but flies.
The next time we went on the stream she had a six-ounce fly-rod, and
fifty beautiful trout in two hours to her basket proved how apt a pupil
she had been.
With many words of cheer to all who love the glorious pastime, I remain,
as of yore—Uncle Ned—_a born fisherman_.
“Eagle’s Nest,” Delaware Co., N. Y.
“There are two peculiarities of all sorts of fish, which are frequently
unnoticed; that they are largely attracted to their food by scent, and
that they feed at night.”—_Seth Green_.
“The first and last object of the fly-fisher is to show as much of the
fly to the fish as possible, and as little of anything else.”—_Francis
Francis_.
“The notion of the main mass of anglers would appear to be, that if an
unusually cunning fish takes up an impregnable-looking position he is to
be religiously left unassailed. ‘Breakers ahead!’ seem to be scented by
the over-cautious pliers of the rod, when the chances of conquest are
really ‘as even’ as in less dangerous localities; and even supposing
this were not so, the greater the difficulties the more exciting the
sport, and the keener the pleasure.”—_David Foster._
(Illustration Missing)
26. Manchester.
27. Blue Jay.
28. Imperial.
29. McLeod.
30. Black and Gold.
31. White and Jungle Cock.
“Many men of fame, even equal to Dr. Johnson’s, have been eminent as
anglers, and have redeemed and disculpated angling from his surly and
foolish sneer.”—_John Lyle King._
“I invariably endeavor, when dressing a fly, to imitate the living
insect; still I have seen nondescript flies beat all the palmer hackles
and the most life-like flies that ever graced a casting-line.”—“_Frank
Forester_.”
“If we are content with an ungainly fly, we will be satisfied with
inferiority of rod and tackle; and although the fish may not see the
difference, the angler may become, from neglecting one point, slovenly
in all. A well-made fly is a beautiful object, an ill-made one an
eye-sore and annoyance; and it is a great satisfaction both to exhibit
and examine a well-filled book of handsomely tied flies.”—_R. B.
Roosevelt_.
“What is life, after all, but just going a-fishing all the time, casting
flies on many rivers and lakes, and going quietly home as the day is
ending?”—_W. C. Prime._