[Sidenote: Passing of the Brook Trout]
The brook trout, or char, with the beautiful and suggestive name of
_Salvelinus fontinalis_, by which it is known to the naturalist, is fast
disappearing from its native streams. The altered conditions of its
aboriginal environment, owing to changes brought about by the progress
of civilization, have resulted in its total extinction in some waters
and a sad diminution in others. In many instances the trout brooks of
our childhood will know them no more. The lumberman has gotten in his
work--the forests have disappeared--the tiny brooks have vanished.
The lower waters still remain, but are robbed of their pristine
pureness by the contamination due to various manufacturing industries.
In such streams the supply of trout is only maintained through the
efforts of the federal and state fish commissions. It is to be hoped
that by this means the beautiful brook trout, the loveliest and
liveliest fish of all the finny world, may be preserved and spared to
us for yet a little while. Its introduction to the pure mountain
streams of the Far West has given it a new lease of life, and the time
may come when, outside of the game and fish preserves of wealthy clubs,
it will be only in its new home that it can be found.
[Illustration: Brook Trout. (_Salvelinus fontinalis._)]
[Sidenote: Back Log Reveries]
On long winter evenings the angler, sitting before his cheerful fire,
may be meditating on the passing of the brook trout--that his angling
record for the last season was not so good as the year before, and that
next summer it may be still worse. But such disheartening thoughts are
quickly dispelled as his glance falls on the fly-book and tackle box
within his reach. His fly-book is eagerly overhauled and frayed snells
and leaders and rusty hooks discarded. Some well-worn flies that recall
the big trout that gave him sport galore in the long summer days are, on
second thought, snugly and affectionately tucked away in a separate
pocket of the book, to be brought forth on occasion, to excite the envy
of some brother angler, while relating with minute detail the story of
the part they took in the capture of the "big ones."
[Sidenote: Pipe Dreams]
Through the rings of smoke rising from his brier-root he sees the stream
rippling and sparkling as it courses around the bend. And in fancy he is
wading and casting, and as eagerly expectant of a rise, with his feet
encased in slippers, as when plodding along in clumsy wading boots. The
pipe-dreams of retrospection are as engrossing and enjoyable as those of
anticipation to the appreciative angler. The pleasures though passed are
not forgotten.
[Sidenote: Pride After a Fall]
He even smiles as he remembers the slippery and treacherous rock that
caused his downfall, and the involuntary bath that followed, just as he
hooked the biggest fish in the pool. He is even conscious of the chill
that coursed up his spine as the stream laughed and gurgled in his
submerged ear--but he remembers, best of all, that he saved the fish,
and that he laughs best who laughs last. There is a saving clause of
compensation in every untoward event to the philosophic mind.
[Sidenote: Mother Nature's Sanitarium]
In "the good old summer time" thousands of weary toilers from every
station in life are leaving the home, the school, the workshop, the
office, for a few weeks of rest, recreation and recuperation. And
nowhere else can the overstrung nerves and tired muscles find surer
relief and tone than beside the shimmering lake or brawling stream. The
voices of many waters are calling them, the whispering leaves are
coaxing them, the feathered songsters are entreating them--to leave the
busy haunts of men and repair to the cool shadows and invigorating
breezes of sylvan groves and shining waters.
[Sidenote: Balm in Gilead]
Here, indeed, may be found a solace for every care, a panacea for every
ill, furnished without cost and without stint, from Mother Nature's
pharmacopœia of simples: fresh air, pure water and outdoor exercise. But
while all of this is patent to the seasoned angler, the preachment of
the resources of Nature for the relief of the "demnition grind" of those
who dwell in cities cannot be too often reiterated.
[Sidenote: Beginning of the Season]
Trout fishing is lawful in several states during a part or throughout
the entire month of April; but unless the season is exceptionally
forward and pleasant the wise angler will lose nothing by ignoring the
privilege.
May and June are, by all odds, the best months for brook trout fishing.
By May Day most of the streams of the Eastern States have cleared
sufficiently for fly-fishing, and their temperature has sensibly
diminished.
[Sidenote: Signs of Spring]
"About this time," as the almanacs say, the most interesting literature
for the impatient angler is the catalogue of fishing tackle. After a
final overhauling and inspection of his tools and tackle he is impelled,
irresistibly, to pay a visit to the tackle store for such additions to
his stock, be it large or small, as he thinks he needs, and is not happy
until his wants, real or fancied, are supplied.
[Sidenote: Embarrassment of Riches]
A woman at a bargain counter is a sedate, complacent and uninterested
personage compared with an angler in a tackle store at the opening of
the fishing season. He is covetous to a degree, and would walk off with
the entire stock should he follow the dictates of his inclination as to
his fancied requirements. As it is, he buys many things he will never
have any use for; but he thinks he will, all the same, and leaves the
attractive place an impoverished but happier man.
[Sidenote: Tools and Tackle]
Of course it is best, when one can afford it, to provide duplicate rods
and reels and a liberal supply of minor articles. But the careful
angler, with but one ewe lamb in the shape of a tried and trusty rod,
and a single, reliable click reel, with a limited but well-selected
supply of leaders and flies, will take as many fish as his prodigal
brother with a superabundant equipment.
The length and weight of the rod depends on the character of the
waters to be fished: whether open water or a small brushy stream. Good
rods can be obtained running from nine to eleven feet and from four to
seven ounces. For narrow, shallow streams overhung with trees and
shrubbery, and where the fish are small, the lightest and shortest rod
is sufficient and most convenient. For larger streams or open water the
rod should not exceed ten feet, and six ounces. Where trout are
exceptionally large, as in the Lake Superior region or in Maine, the
maximum of eleven feet, and seven ounces will be about right for most
anglers.
[Sidenote: The Chief Function of a Rod]
Fly-rods built for tournament work, especially for long-distance
casting, are marvels in their way, but it does not follow that they are
adapted, or the best, for work on the stream. The essential and most
important office of a rod is that which is exhibited after a fish is
hooked--in other words, in the playing and landing of the fish. In
practical angling the act of casting, either with fly or bait, is merely
preliminary and subordinate to the real uses of a rod. The poorest
fly-rod made will cast a fly thirty or forty feet, which is about as far
as called for in ordinary angling. But it is the continuous spring and
yielding resistance of the bent rod, constantly maintained, that not
only tires out the fish, but protects the weak snell or leader from
breakage, and prevents a weak hold of the hook from giving way; and this
is the proper function of a rod.
[Sidenote: Reel, Line and Leader]
The reel should be a single-action click reel, the lighter the better,
if well made. The best, and in fact the only, line for fly-fishing, is
one of enameled silk, its caliber corresponding with the weight of the
rod. Only the best quality of silkworm fiber should be purchased in
leaders for sizable fish. A leader of six feet is long enough for three
flies, and one of four feet with two flies is still better.
[Illustration: Red Throat, or Cut Throat Trout. (_Salmo clarkii._)]
[Sidenote: Artificial Flies]
The subject of artificial flies is a most complex one. All fly-fishers
have their favorites, with or without reason, and swear by them on all
occasions. Some confine themselves to the various hackles, others to
half-a-dozen winged flies, while still others are only satisfied with a
fly-book filled to bursting with scores of all sizes and colors. In this
connection it is as well to say that about the beginning of the century
there was a discussion in the London _Fishing Gazette_ as to what
artificial fly, in case an angler was restricted to a single one, would
be preferred for use during an entire season. The consensus of opinion
was in favor of the "March brown," with the "olive dun" as a good
second. These are both killing flies in America as well as in England
for trout fishing.
[Sidenote: Selection of Flies]
In addition to them the coachman, professor, Montreal, dotterel or
yellow dun, with the black, brown, red and gray hackles should be
sufficient on almost any stream, if tied in several sizes, say on hooks
Nos. 6 to 12, with a preference for the intermediate numbers. From my
experience I would be satisfied with such an assortment. Other anglers,
of course, would think otherwise, and would prefer quite a different
selection--but this is in accordance with one of the accepted and
acknowledged privileges of the gentle art. And this, at the same time,
is as it should be. One who has had more success with certain flies than
with others, all things being equal, should pin his faith to them. And
this, moreover, explains why there is such an extensive list to choose
from in the fly-tier's catalogue, which contains the preferences of many
generations of fly-fishers.
[Sidenote: Philosophy of Artificial Flies]
The question as to the best fly to use at certain seasons, or at any
season, is a vexed one. Whether it is the colored dressing of the fly,
or its form, that is most enticing to the fish, will perhaps never be
known, except approximately. Of the long list of named artificial flies
the choice of most anglers has been narrowed to a score or two, and for
the only reason that they have been more or less successful with them.
We are apt to look at the matter from our own viewpoint, and often
without reference to that of the fish.
Reasoning from the appearance of artificial flies in general, it would
seem that on a fretted surface almost any one of the many hundreds
should get a rise from a fish, if in a biting mood, and, indeed, this
is in a measure true. But one swallow does not make a summer. There are
times and places when any old thing, even a bit of colored rag, will
coax a rise. I have had good success with a bit of the skin of a
chicken neck with a feather or two attached. Then there are times when
nothing but natural bait proves alluring.
[Sidenote: Why a Trout Takes a Fly]
We may assume as almost a self-evident proposition that a fish takes an
artificial fly under the delusion that it is a natural one, or something
good to eat--otherwise it would not take it at all. If this assumption
is correct, then it would follow that the best imitations of natural
flies or insects should be the most successful. This is, in the main, a
reasonable conclusion, though on the other hand certain flies that are
universally considered and used as good ones, do not, to our eyes at
least, bear any resemblance to any known insect--for instance the
coachman, professor and other so-called fancy flies.
[Sidenote: The Angler's Viewpoint]
An artificial fly on the ruffled surface of the water presents a very
different appearance to the same fly when held in one's hand, even to
our own eyes; what, then, does it look like to the fish? That's the
question. I have often attempted to solve it by diving beneath and
viewing the fly on the surface. If the water was perfectly clear and
calm, without a ripple, it simply looked like a dark fly, no matter what
its color, though I could sometimes discern the lighter color of the
wings when formed of undyed mallard or wood-duck feathers. When the
surface was ruffled it was so indistinct that a bit of leaf would have
seemed the same. A somewhat similar experiment may be performed, in a
minor degree, by placing a mirror at the bottom of a barrel of water and
viewing the reflection of the fly on the surface.
[Sidenote: The Trout's Viewpoint]
We can surmise that fish are not color-blind, otherwise there would be
no reason for the beautiful colors that many male fishes assume during
the breeding season. Fishes are possessed of keen vision, and possibly
have the faculty of distinguishing colors in a fly, even when on a
fretted surface, where to our eyes they are very indistinct, and where
even the form can not be well defined.
[Sidenote: Flies in Their Season]
In Great Britain it is the rule to use certain flies at different
seasons, that is, to employ the imitations of such natural flies as are
on the water at the time. This seems quite reasonable in view of the
fact that the trout streams there are shallow, and especially so in the
case of the chalk-streams whose bright colored bottoms may enhance the
visual powers of the fish in discerning, by the reflected light, the
form and colors of the artificial fly.
[Sidenote: Imitations of Natural Flies]
We may conclude, then, that as trout are in the habit of feeding on such
flies and insects as resort to, or are hatched in, the water, that the
best imitations of such natural flies, from the trout's viewpoint, would
be the most alluring. I think it goes without saying, that all past
experience has proven that the imitations of some of the commonest
aquatic insects have been the most successful under all conditions. This
would include not only the imago, but the larva, as represented by the
various hackle flies.
[Sidenote: Dark or Light Colored Flies]
The old rule to use light-colored flies on dark days and high or
discolored water, and darker flies on bright days, or with low and clear
water, has been followed for centuries, and in the main is true and
reliable. As some anglers have found that a reversed application of it
has been successful, at times, they are inclined to doubt it altogether.
However, they do not look at it intelligently. With clear water and a
clear atmosphere a light-colored fly will show as plainly on the surface
as a dark one to the fish below. If we gaze upward during a fall of
snow, the flakes appear quite dark, while on a level or below the eye
they appear white. Apparently, then, there are other conditions that
must be taken into account. With a sunken fly, for instance, the case is
different, for a dark fly then appears more distinct than a light one,
in clear water; but with milky or discolored water a bright fly is more
easily discerned below the surface--hence the rule. And on the same
principle smaller flies are suitable for bright days and clear water,
and larger ones for dark days and discolored water.
[Sidenote: The Non-Rising of Trout]
In a very interesting address delivered before the Anglers Club, of
Glasgow, Scotland, on "Why do trout sometimes not rise to the artificial
fly?" the lecturer after naming and discussing many of the reasons
usually advanced, said:
"And what is the conclusion of the whole matter? Shortly, this--that
there is a great deal about the question that we know little or nothing
about."
He advised his brother anglers to "Watch narrowly the facts as observed
in nature, note them down carefully at the time, compare them with
those of brother anglers on occasions such as this, and out of all
evolve theories which, when reduced to practice, will be found to have
carried us nearer to the truth."
[Sidenote: Condition Versus Theory]
This is very good advice freely given--and by the way advice is more
easily given than reliable information in a case like this. Nevertheless
fly-fishers should consider that a "condition, not a theory," confronts
them in the rising or non-rising of a trout to an artificial fly, and
should endeavor to ascertain, if such be possible, just what conditions
are present to account for the peculiar actions, at different times, of
those elusive creatures of the adipose fin, that according to popular
opinion seem to have as many moods as specks or spots.
[Sidenote: A Probable Reason]
There is one feature of this subject, however, that I have never known
to be alluded to, which is this: That the rising or non-rising of trout
may depend on the scarcity or abundance of the fish. In regions where
trout are unusually abundant I have never, in my experience, known them
to fail to rise to the artificial fly, at any time of day, or under
almost any condition of wind or weather. It is only in sections that are
much fished, and fish consequently scarce, or "educated," as some term
it for want of a better reason, that trout fail to respond to the
solicitations of the fly-fisher.
[Illustration: Steelhead Trout. (_Salmo gairdneri._)]
[Sidenote: Abundance of Trout]
In the wilds of Canada I have had trout rise to my fly by the dozen, day
after day, so that all semblance of sport disappeared, and only enough
were taken for the frying-pan. In Yellowstone Lake the merest tyro can
take the red-throat trout until his arms ache, at any time of day,
beneath clouds or sunshine. And in the river below the lake one can
stand on the bank in plain sight of the trout, which, with one eye on
the angler and the other on the fly, rushes to his doom by snapping up
the tinseled lure, contrary to all conventional lore. This is an extreme
case, of course, for the trout are extremely abundant, or were so as
late as the summer of 1904.
[Sidenote: Scarcity of Trout]
One can imagine that in the clear and shallow streams of England, which
have been thrashed by the flies of anglers, good, bad and indifferent,
for centuries, and where trout are consequently and necessarily scarce,
or "educated," that they fail to rise--in other words they are not
always there. This, I think, is the reason that dry fly-fishing is
becoming the vogue in that country, where the angler waits patiently by
the stream until a trout rising to a natural fly proclaims its presence.
The rest is easy.
[Sidenote: Practical Hints]
For obvious reasons it is always best to fish down stream where there is
a current; in comparatively still water one may fish up-stream or down.
I would advise the angler, by all means, to wade, as he has more command
of the water on either hand, with plenty of room for the back cast, and
can float his flies under overhanging bushes and banks, or in the eddies
of rocks. As the water is cold at this season he should be warmly clad,
putting on two pairs of woolen socks or stockings, with rubber hip boots
or wading pants. He should move slowly and cautiously, fishing every
available spot before advancing a step. By hurrying along as some
anglers do, he soon gets heated, even in cool weather, with the result
that his nether extremities are soon bathed in a more or less profuse
perspiration, and he is altogether a "dem'd, damp, moist, unpleasant
body." To make haste slowly is the wise and proper thing in wading a
stream. It is the slow, deliberate angler who gets the trout.
[Sidenote: A Timely Tip]
Some streams are likely to be occasionally swollen or roiled by spring
rains or by the June rise. At such times, when not too much discolored
for fly-fishing, the angler will do well to avoid the channel of the
stream and cast his flies along the edges, where the water is clearer.
This tip may add many a fish to an otherwise scanty creel.
[Sidenote: Likely Places]
When the stream is at its ordinary stage, and clear, the riffles and
eddies are the most likely places at this season, and will be pretty
sure to reward the careful angler. In fishing such places the flies
should be floated over them, allowing them to sink below the surface
occasionally. In addition to the flies mentioned for May, the stone fly,
gray drake and brown drake will be found useful, especially in
localities where the May-fly or sand-fly puts in an appearance. During
the hottest days of summer, when the water is warmer, trout are more apt
to be found at the mouths of small spring brooks, or in the deepest
portions of the stream.
[Sidenote: Management of Flies]
Churning the flies up and down, or wiggling and dancing them, should be
avoided; the only motion, if any, should be a very slight fluttering,
such as a drowning insect might make as it floats down stream. Strike
lightly. Should the trout leap after being hooked, as it sometimes does
in the shallow water of riffles, lower the tip slightly for half a
second, but recover it immediately--in other words it is simply a down
and up movement about as quickly as it can be done.
[Sidenote: Lowering the Tip]
And talking of lowering the tip--it may not seem out of place to make a
few observations concerning that proceeding which some anglers do not
seem to understand, or at least do not fully appreciate. The rule of
lowering the tip to a leaping fish is a very old one, centuries old in
fact, and is founded on the experience of anglers for many generations
past. Its usefulness and reasonableness is as manifest in the twentieth
century as at any former time.
But because some thoughtless anglers at the present day have succeeded
in landing a leaping and well-hooked fish without observing the rule,
they decry it as entirely unnecessary, and declare that it ought to be
relegated to the limbo of obsolete and fanciful notions and useless
practices. The iconoclast usually attacks his images without thought or
reason, and often in sheer ignorance. A little reflection might
enlighten him and cause him to stay his hand.
[Sidenote: Origin of the Rule]
The rule originated in Great Britain and pertained particularly to
fly-fishing. The very small hooks on which trout flies were tied offered
but a slight hold on the mouth of the fish, and in case that a leaping
fish threw its weight on a taut line and raised rod it was almost sure
to break away--hence the rule to lower the tip and release the tension
for a brief moment. As the fish regained the water the tip was raised
and the former tension resumed. It must be understood, however, that
"lowering the tip" does not mean to touch the water with the tip, but as
the rod is usually held at an angle of forty-five degrees, a downward
deflection of the tip for a foot will usually suffice.
[Sidenote: They Who Differ]
So far as my observation goes the objections to the rule have been
raised by black bass bait-fishers who use heavy rods, strong tackle and
large hooks. Under these circumstances a fish is usually so securely
hooked by a vigorous yank that the lowering of the tip, when it leaps
from the water, is not so essential, inasmuch as the angler has a cinch
on his quarry whether the line be slack or taut.
[Sidenote: Long and Short Line]
But even in bait-fishing, with a light rod and corresponding tackle and
a small hook, it is a wise plan to follow a leaping fish back to the
water by slightly lowering the tip, especially on a short line--with a
long line it does not matter so much, as the "give" of a pliant rod and
long line is usually sufficient to relieve the increased tension when a
fish is in the air.
[Sidenote: Dry Fly-Fishing]
Dry fly-fishing is the latest angling cult in England, but I do not
think that it will find many adherents in this country. For one reason,
the dry fly must be cast up-stream, which will never be a favorite
method with American anglers for well-known reasons. Then again, our
trout streams are usually swift and broken, and under these conditions
the dry fly is soon drowned and becomes a wet fly, thus subverting the
cardinal principle of dry fly-fishing. In England this method is
practiced on comparatively smooth, shallow streams with but little
current. The flies are constructed with rather large, upright wings and
spreading hackle, and often with cork bodies, to enhance their capacity
for floating and buoyancy.
[Sidenote: Comparisons are Odious]
While fly-fishing, wet or dry, is unquestionably the highest branch of
angling, and far preferable to bait-fishing for trout, it does not
follow that fishing with the dry fly, or floating fly, is a superior art
to fishing with the wet or sunken fly, as claimed by some of the dry
fly-fishers of England. Indeed, some of the ultra dry fly enthusiasts
have arrogated to themselves the distinction of practicing the most
artistic and sportsmanlike method of angling, and look askance, if not
with disdain and contempt, at the wet fly-fishers, whom they designate
as the "chuck and chance it" sort.
I can not think that the position they have assumed can be justly
maintained, or that it is warranted by the facts of the case. As dry
fly-fishing is being taken up by a few American anglers, it may be well
enough to give the alleged superiority of the method some
consideration.
[Illustration: Rainbow Trout. (_Salmo irideus_.)]
[Sidenote: Modus Operandi]
Some years ago the _modus operandi_ of dry
fly-fishing was explained to me, personally, by Mr. William Senior,
editor of the London _Field_. The angler waits beside the swim until a
trout betrays its whereabouts by rising to a newly hatched gnat or fly,
creating a dimple on the surface. The angler then, kneeling on one
knee, sometimes having a knee-pad strapped on, cautiously casts his
floating May-fly, with cocked wings, and anointed with paraffin or
vaseline. The fly is deftly and lightly cast up-stream, a little above
the swirl of the trout, and is permitted to float down, as naturally as
possible, over the fish. There being no response after a cast or two,
the angler switches the fly in the air to dry it, and awaits the
tell-tale evidence of a fish before again offering the buoyant lure.
Now, I cannot imagine why this method is claimed to be on a higher
plane of angling than the "chuck and chance it" method. Certainly a
knowledge of the habits of the trout is not essential, inasmuch as the
angler makes his cast only on the appearance of the fish.
[Sidenote: The Wet Fly-Fisher]
On the other hand the wet fly-fisher, wading down stream or up stream,
brings to his aid his knowledge of the habits and haunts of the trout,
and casts his flies over every likely spot where his experience leads
him to think a fish may lie. It is this eager expectancy, or fond
anticipation, with every cast, that makes up much of the real pleasure
of angling, and which is utterly lost to the dry fly-fisher, who waits
and watches on the bank, like a kingfisher on his perch.
While there can be no objection to dry fly-fishing, _per se_, and
which, moreover, I welcome as a pleasing and meritorious innovation, I
feel compelled to enter a protest against claiming for it a higher
niche in the ethics of sport than wet fly-fishing. And with all due
respect for the dry fly men of Great Britain, I can not admit that they
trot in a higher class than those "chuck and chance it" fishers of
honored and revered memory: Sir Humphry Davy, "Christopher North" and
Francis Francis.
[Sidenote: Bait Fishing]
It is the practice of some anglers to confine themselves entirely to
natural bait in trout fishing, the favorite bait being the earthworm or
"barnyard hackle"; also grasshoppers, grubs, crickets, or bits of animal
flesh. While not so artistic, or for that matter not so successful as
fly-fishing when the streams are clear, there are times when
bait-fishing can be practiced without prejudice, and to better advantage
than fly-fishing: as when streams are rendered turbid or roily by rains.
A capital bait is the beautifully tinted anal fin of a trout, which in
water with some current waves, wabbles and flutters in a most seductive
manner on the hook. Its effect is heightened, and its resemblance to a
living insect is more pronounced, if the eye of a trout is first
impaled on the hook through its enveloping membrane, care being taken
not to puncture the eyeball.
[Sidenote: A Fish Story]
I was once fishing with fin-bait in Wisconsin, early in the season when
the stream was milky, when one trout was badly hooked, the point of the
hook forcing out the eyeball, which hung on its cheek. I carefully
unhooked the fish and plucked off the eye, when the unfortunate trout
flopped out of my hand into the stream before I could kill it. I added
the eyeball to my fin-bait, and strange to say I soon caught the same
trout with its own eye! While this story may be more difficult for the
uninitiated to swallow than for the trout to bolt its own eye, it is
nevertheless true, and may be taken as proof that fish are not very
sensitive to pain.
[Sidenote: Tools and Tackle]
The equipment recommended for fly-fishing will answer just as well for
bait-fishing, as the baits commonly used are light. In some instances,
however, a slightly heavier or stiffer rod may be employed, especially
if the small casting-spoon or a small minnow is used for large trout.
Hooks from Nos. 5 to 7 are about right.
[Sidenote: The Sea Trout]
Whether the sea-trout, or salmon-trout, of the Gulf of St. Lawrence is a
different species from the speckled brook trout of the upper parts of
rivers emptying into said Gulf has been a mooted question for many
years, arguments _pro and con_ having been advanced by a number of
intelligent and observant anglers. In 1834 Hamilton Smith described it
as a new species under the name of _Salmo canadensis_, and in 1850 H. R.
Storer named it _Salmo immaculatus_. Later and better authorities,
however, have decided that it is only a sea-run form of the speckled
brook trout, _Salvelinus fontinalis_. I unhesitatingly indorse this
opinion. Many years ago Dr. W. W. Dawson and myself investigated the
matter thoroughly while salmon fishing on the Restigouche River. About
the Metapediac, and below the railroad bridge, we caught the brook trout
with its crimson and yellow spots, and near Campbellton, at the mouth of
the river, we took the fresh-run form of bright silvery coloration, with
scarcely any markings on the back and without spots. We also caught them
a little higher up the river in transition stages, when the
characteristic spots were beginning to appear, more or less pronounced.
We compared hundreds, from plain silvery form to those with bright
crimson and golden spots, but could find no structural differences.
[Sidenote: Changes in Coloration]
Marine fishes are very constant in coloration, the non-colored portions
being quite silvery, while fishes of fresh waters are subject to
frequent changes in hue, being much influenced in this respect by the
character of their haunts. So when the brook trout "goes to sea" it
loses its spots and takes on the silvery livery of marine fishes, but
resumes its original coloration soon after entering fresh water.
[Sidenote: The Winninish]
Just why the winninish of the upper St. Lawrence, which is but a dwarfed
form of the Atlantic salmon, does not also proceed to sea after the
spawning season, like its prototype, is another puzzling proposition. It
has been argued by some that the winninish is the original, or typical
species, and that the anadromous salmon is descended from individuals
that took on the seafaring habit. But such speculative theories can
never be proven.
[Sidenote: A Virgin Trout Stream]
Twenty years ago, Dr. W. W. Dawson, of Cincinnati--then president of the
American Medical Association--and myself were guests of Surgeon-General
Baxter, U.S.A., at his fishing lodge near Metapedia, on the Restigouche
River, New Brunswick. Twenty years ago! How time flies! Since then my
dear friends, Doctors Dawson and Baxter, have both crossed the silent
river, though it seems but a few weeks since we were casting our lines
in the pleasant places on the famous Restigouche. Indeed, that pleasant
summer seems as but yesterday, when Mrs. Baxter killed with her own rod
six salmon, running from twenty to thirty pounds, and was not more than
thirty minutes in bringing any of them to gaff.
[Illustration: Dolly Varden Trout. (_Salvelinus parkei._)]
One day at Campbellton, at the mouth of the river, I met Mr. Dean Sage,
of Albany, N. Y., who kindly gave me permission to fish his excellent
waters, farther up the Restigouche. I also met there Mr. Light, Chief
Engineer of the Dominion of Canada, who gave me such a glowing account
of the trout streams that had just been rendered accessible by the
Quebec and Lake St. John railway, that Dr. Dawson and myself gave up
our contemplated trip to the Nipigon, and decided to go up the Batiscan
River in accordance with the advice of Mr. Light.
[Sidenote: The Batiscan River]
He recommended taking with us from the Restigouche two Gaspé canoes and
canoemen who were accustomed to swift and rocky water; for the Batiscan,
he informed us, contained numerous rapids that would tax the strength
and prowess of the most experienced canoemen. We engaged two Restigouche
men to accompany us, and decided to take but one Gaspé wooden canoe,
thirty feet long, and to procure a smaller and lighter one at Quebec.
[Sidenote: In Old Quebec]
Arriving at that quaint and historic town, we obtained, with the help of
the American consul, Mr. Downes, a new basswood canoe, built on the
model of a birch bark, about fifteen feet in length; this we procured
from an Indian tribe near the city. Through our letter of introduction
from Mr. Light to Mr. Beemer, the contractor of the Q. & L. St. John
railway, we had no difficulty in getting transportation for our canoes
and camp equipage to the Batiscan River, which was then the terminus of
the railway. Indeed, Mr. Beemer kindly went with us to that point, to
see that we were started right on our exploration of the Upper Batiscan.
Our objective point was Batiscan Lake, some ten miles as the crow flies,
but the distance by river unknown, for its upper waters had never been
fished by white men. A railroad survey party had gone a short distance
up the stream by land, but beyond that it was a _terra incognita_ to the
angler. I questioned an old French trapper, who told me that he had been
to the lake with sled and snowshoes in winter, and had fished through
the ice; also that the trout ran up to ten pounds in weight. It was to
be a veritable voyage of discovery, and Mr. Light was quite desirous to
know something of the resources and particulars of the region, having
leased the fishing privileges from the Dominion.
[Sidenote: Lacs du Rognon]
Arriving at the river, I found Mr. Farnsworth--who has written so
entertainingly of the French inhabitants--established in a pleasant camp
a mile below the railroad crossing. I also met Captain Seaton, president
of a Quebec fishing club, the lessee of the Lacs du Rognon, near the
railroad crossing of the Batiscan. Captain Seaton showed me a basket of
brook trout averaging five pounds, but to my surprise he stated that
they were taken with the trolling spoon, as the trout of those
lakes--more's the pity--utterly refused to take the fly, giving as a
reason that those waters abounded in myriads of chub, on which the trout
habitually fed.
[Sidenote: Up the River]
We embarked in the canoes and proceeded up the river, which we found to
be a wild, rocky stream, with long rapids, up which it was impossible to
propel the canoes. This entailed the labor and delay of long portages,
making our progress extremely slow. Between the rapids were long
stretches of smooth, but very rapid water. The mountains rose up on each
side from the edge of the stream, so that the portages were on a side
hill of Laurentian rocks overgrown with moss a foot or two in depth.
Owing to these difficulties we were six days in traveling five miles,
and failed to reach Batiscan Lake, though I saw its waters from the top
of a mountain.
[Sidenote: Trout Galore]
[Sidenote: Batiscan Falls]
That we found trout galore is no name for it. They were as numerous as
the black flies by day or the mosquitoes by night. And the chub were
both plentiful and gamy--great dark, round, stout fellows, weighing
sometimes two pounds, and gamier than the trout. We at last reached a
fall, or rather twin falls, aggregating some thirty feet in height, and
the most beautiful sight I have ever seen on any stream. The summit of
the fall flowed in a straight, unbroken line across the river, over a
solid ledge of rocks, with a curve as true, uniform, and unbroken as a
mill dam. The waters fell into a circular basin of considerable extent,
and then, divided by a small island in the middle of the lower fall,
plunged down again to the lower level. On this little isle were twin fir
trees of remarkable beauty and symmetry, standing like silent sentinels
in the silent Canadian forest--for no sound was ever heard except the
rushing of the tumultuous waters beneath. The absence of birds was
remarkable, only an occasional song sparrow being heard.
Our last camp was at the summit of the fall, a few feet from its edge.
Above the fall were nothing but brook trout; not a chub to be seen;
great lusty trout from one-half to three pounds--none less, none more.
And they were too plentiful for real sport. A dozen would rise to the
single fly at once, knocking it about sometimes like a tennis ball. We
fished only a few minutes in the early morning and toward sundown, as
we took only enough to supply the camp.
[Sidenote: Fishing on the Verge]
Most of my fishing here was from the very verge or curve of the fall,
where the trout were playing. Strange to say, none went over, as I
ascertained by careful watching below. Indeed, there seemed to be none
in the circular basin below. I could, at least, see none, neither could
I get a rise, though I tried repeatedly. When hooked, on the verge of
the fall, the fish always started up stream. As there were two feet of
water going over the fall with a velocity of five or six miles an hour,
or more, the strength and activity of the trout can be imagined. These
trout were the most beautiful and highly colored I have ever seen; their
bellies a bright orange-red, and their sides sprinkled with gold and
intensely crimson spots, and their fins edged with jet black and pure
white. The coloration was unusually vivid and pronounced.
[Sidenote: Lake Edward]
From this camp we could hear all day the workmen on the railroad
blasting near Lake Edward, which was but a few miles away, and which has
since become so noted as a fishing resort.
[Illustration: Brown Trout. (_Salmo fario._)]
This was, in truth, a virgin trout stream. No artificial fly had ever
before fretted the surface of its pristine waters. The only sign of man
was the mark on a tree, near our camp, where a chip had been cut out by
a trapper, years before. Just above our camp was a narrow trail leading
from the cliffs to the river, but the only tracks were those of
caribou, bears, 'coons, and porcupines.
[Sidenote: There Are Others]
There are other species of trout in American waters that are fished for
in much the same way as for brook trout; they are the rainbow,
steelhead, red-throat, golden, Dolly Varden and Sunapee trout; also the
introduced European brown trout. These various species are being
introduced in trout waters in a number of states, so that it may be well
to briefly refer to some of their characteristics.
[Sidenote: Rocky Mountain Species]
In the Rocky Mountain region there are three groups of trout belonging
to the Salmo genus--the steelhead, rainbow and red-throat, or cut-throat
as it is sometimes called. They are all black spotted. In widely
separated sections of country these different species may be readily
distinguished by certain characteristics, but in other localities, where
they co-exist naturally, it is sometimes a difficult matter to
distinguish one group from another. At one time, indeed, the rainbow and
steelhead were pronounced by competent authority to be the same fish,
the steelhead being supposed to be the sea-run form of the species. At
the present time, however, they are held to be distinct species.
The Dolly Varden, or bull-trout, belongs to a different genus
(_Salvelinus_), and is related to the brook trout of Eastern waters,
having also red spots. While the red-throat trout inhabits both slopes
of the Rockies, the others named belonged originally to the Pacific
Slope.
[Sidenote: The Red Throat Trout (_Salmo clarkii_)]
The red-throat trout is the most widely distributed of the Western
trouts. It inhabits both slopes of the Rocky Mountains, and, as might be
inferred from this extensive range, it varies in external appearance
more than any of the trout species. There are a dozen or more
well-defined sub-species or geographical varieties, but all have the
characteristic red splashes on the membrane of the throat. By means of
this "trademark" it may be readily distinguished from the rainbow or
steelhead trouts, both of which are also black-spotted.
[Sidenote: Nomenclature]
But while the red-throat trout varies considerably in contour,
coloration and markings, in different localities, it is identical in
structure wherever found. It is known by the United States Bureau of
Fisheries as the "black-spotted trout," a most unfortunate designation,
inasmuch as the rainbow and steelhead trouts are also "black-spotted."
The name red-throat is distinctive, and is preferable to the rather
repulsive name of "cut-throat" trout by which it is also known. The
red-throat trout is designated in its native waters by such names as
"trout," "brook trout," "speckled mountain trout," etc. As the Eastern
red-spotted "brook trout" is rapidly being introduced to Western waters,
the name "brook trout" should be applied only to that species.
[Sidenote: Growth and Weight]
Where the red-throat trout grows to a larger size than usual, as in the
Yellowstone and other lakes, it is often called "salmon-trout," and the
bull-trout of the Pacific Slope is also sometimes known by the same
name, but the only "salmon-trout" is the steelhead trout. The red-throat
trout rises to the fly more freely than the Eastern brook trout, though
in gameness and flavor it is hardly its equal. Its habits are also
somewhat different. It usually lies in pools and holes, and does not
frequent the riffles so much as the Eastern trout. In size it is
somewhat larger than the Eastern trout in streams of the same relative
width and depth, and like all trout species grows to greater weight in
lakes and large streams. I have taken them on the fly weighing from
three to five pounds in Soda Butte Lake in the Yellowstone Park, and in
Yankee Jim Cañon on the Yellowstone River. In Yellowstone Lake some are
infested with the white pelican parasite, rendering them emaciated and
lacking in game qualities; this condition, however, seems to be
disappearing somewhat, while those in the river below are well-nourished
and gamy.
[Sidenote: Tools and Tackle]
The same tackle and artificial flies used for the Eastern brook trout
are as suitable, as a rule, for the red-throat, though preference is
given to the stone fly, coachman, professor, black gnat, cinnamon,
Henshall, and the various hackles by Montana anglers. The red-throat
seldom breaks water when hooked, but puts up a vigorous fight beneath
the surface. As the mountain streams are usually swift and rocky and
fringed with alders, willows and other small trees, the angler must be
wide awake to land his fish and save his tackle.
[Sidenote: The Steelhead Trout (_Salmo gairdneri_)]
The steelhead, or salmon-trout, is the trimmest and most graceful and
the gamest of all the trout species, being more "salmon-like" in shape
and appearance. On the Pacific Coast, where it is native, and runs to
salt water, it grows to twenty pounds or more in weight, when it is
known as steelhead salmon, and many are canned under this name. Its
spots are smaller than in the other black-spotted species. It has,
sometimes, especially the males, a pink flush along the sides, but not
so pronounced as in the rainbow trout. Its color is also of a lighter
hue, with steely reflections. Its scales are somewhat larger than those
of the red-throat, but not so large as in the rainbow trout.
[Illustration: Golden Trout of Volcano Creek. (_Salmo roosevelti._)]
[Sidenote: As a Game-Fish]
[Sidenote: Remarkable Growth]
It seems to be pretty well established in Lake Superior, where it was
introduced by the United States Bureau of Fisheries, some fine catches
having been made of late years. It has also been introduced into several
states on the eastern slope of the Rockies, which seem to be very
suitable for this fine fish. In Montana I have taken it up to five
pounds. It rises eagerly to the fly, and when hooked breaks water
repeatedly like the black bass. It is very trying to light tackle, and
must be carefully handled by the angler. The flies named for the
red-throat trout are just as killing for the steelhead. Like the
red-throat it is also susceptible to bait, which in Montana is the
"rock-worm," the larva of the caddis fly. As a food fish it excels all
of the trout species as might be surmised. In fresh water lakes it
should grow to eight or ten pounds. Near Virginia City, Montana, is
located Axolotl Lake, so named from being inhabited by a species of
axolotl, but it contained no fish of any kind until stocked with a few
thousand steelhead trout fingerlings from the Bozeman Fisheries Station,
in 1902. In September, 1907, two of my friends, while trolling from a
canvas boat on this lake, caught eleven trout weighing in the aggregate
seventy pounds, the largest weighing thirteen pounds, an extraordinary
weight for a five-year-old trout. But this is easily explained when it
is considered that the trout had been feasting for several years on such
nutritious diet as these curious amphibians afforded, and in great
abundance, but which now are said to be scarce.
[Sidenote: The Rainbow Trout (_Salmo irideus_)]
The rainbow trout has also been introduced to Eastern waters by the
United States Bureau of Fisheries, and seems to be well adapted to ponds
of considerable extent, where water plants and grasses flourish. Such
waters seem to be more congenial than the colder mountain streams; and
moreover it has a way of disappearing from the smaller streams to seek
those of greater depth. It will thrive in warmer water than the other
trouts. The rainbow is similar in contour to the red-throat, though
somewhat deeper, and with shorter head, smaller mouth, and larger
scales. Its distinguishing feature is the broad red band along the
lateral line, common to both male and female. It is a handsome fish,
with considerably more gameness than the red-throat, but is not so
vigorous on the rod as the steelhead of the same size. Owing to its
tendency to descend streams it is particularly liable to enter
irrigation ditches, in which event its doom is sealed. As a food-fish it
is superior to the native red-throat trout.
[Sidenote: In New Waters]
In no new waters has the rainbow done so well as in those of Michigan
and Colorado. In the former state it has populated streams that were
once the home of the grayling, more's the pity. In Colorado, in the
Gunnison and neighboring streams, it furnishes sport galore to hundreds
of delighted anglers, who visit the locality especially for the fine
fishing. No trout surpasses the rainbow in rising to the artificial fly,
and almost any trout fly will capture it, though the silver doctor,
coachman, and the different hackles, seem to be more favored than
others.
[Sidenote: The Dolly Varden Trout (_Salvelinus parkei_)]
The Dolly Varden, or bull-trout, sometimes erroneously called
"salmon-trout," is the only red-spotted trout native to Western waters.
It belongs to the same genus as the Eastern brook trout, but grows much
larger. It is found only on the Pacific Slope, in both lakes and
streams, growing to twelve or fifteen pounds under favorable conditions.
In the streams it is a gamer fish than in lakes, though the larger fish
are rather lazy and logy. Compared with its Eastern relative it is
hardly so vigorous on the rod, when of similar weight, and not quite so
good for the table.
It takes the fly readily, also any kind of natural bait, and in lakes
or broad streams succumbs to the trolling-spoon. It is not so great a
favorite as the other Western trouts, except in Alaska, where it is
abundant in all lakes and streams.
[Sidenote: The Brown Trout (_Salmo fario_)]
The brown trout is the brook trout of Europe, and was introduced to the
United States from England and Germany, under the auspices of the United
States Bureau of Fisheries. Those from Germany (the eggs), were donated
by Von Behr, and his name was unfortunately applied to the fish as "Von
Behr trout," also "German trout," two most unfortunate and ridiculous
names. It is the "brook trout" of Europe and "brown trout" of Great
Britain. In Germany it is "_bach forelle_," which means brook trout.
Among English-speaking people it has been known since before the day of
Walton and Cotton as "brown trout," and brown trout it should be world
without end. To rob this fine fish of its good name and substitute the
misnomers mentioned was both unwise and absurd.
[Sidenote: Absurd Names]
I sincerely hope that those names, together with the equally absurd name
of "black-spotted trout," as applied to the red-throat trout, will soon
be relegated to the shades of oblivion, never to be mentioned in polite
angling society. If the fish mentioned was the only black-spotted trout
inhabiting its native waters, it would be a good and suitable name, but
unfortunately its congeners, the rainbow and steelhead trouts, are also
"black-spotted" as before mentioned. The name originated, I think, about
the same time as "Von Behr." When the first eggs were taken East and
hatched the fry were called Rocky Mountain trout and California trout,
the former name being more applicable than the latter, but neither were
very suitable. Our technical knowledge of the Western trouts must have
been sadly deficient, however, when they were displaced for
"black-spotted trout."
[Sidenote: As a Game- and Food-Fish]
The brown trout has both reddish-brown and black spots, of a larger size
than those of its American cousins. Altogether it is a fine fish, much
prized in Great Britain, but in American waters it is hardly so gamy,
and not quite so good a food-fish as our native trouts. It grows to a
larger size than our brook trout, and will thrive in warmer water. A
variety of the brown trout, the Loch Leven, was introduced into Firehole
River, in the Yellowstone National Park, some years ago, and it is
remarkable how well they thrive in the warm geyser water. They must have
been planted in some stream in the Park tributary to the Yellowstone
River also, for I know of two being taken near Livingston, Montana, one
weighing more than ten pounds, the other about twelve. In a pond near
Bozeman, Montana, some brown trout fry were planted, and at the end of
four years two were taken weighing six pounds each, both of which were
weighed by myself.
[Sidenote: Fly-Fishing]
The brown trout rises well to the fly, as well if not better in American
waters than in England, and does not seem to be so fastidious as to the
color or shape of the fly offered. Any of the popular trout flies will
answer, and it seems to have an inherited fancy for the imitations of
the May-fly, the green and gray drakes, when the natural May-fly is on
the water. This fly is also known as the sand-fly.
[Sidenote: Golden Trout of the Sierras]
High up in the Southern Sierras, about 10,000 feet, in the neighborhood
of Mount Whitney, California, are several species or sub-species, of
"golden trout," apparently related to the rainbow trout. For beautiful
and varied coloration they excel all fishes of fresh waters and rival
those of the coral reefs of the tropics.
[Sidenote: Varieties of Golden Trout]
For many years the golden trout of Mount Whitney has been described at
various times by enthusiastic anglers in the sportsmen's journals, but
not until lately have these fishes been properly systematized. In the
summer of 1904 a party headed by Dr. Barton W. Evermann, under the
auspices of the United States Bureau of Fisheries, proceeded to the
locality mentioned, and thoroughly explored the different streams, and
collected hundreds of specimens of the trout inhabiting them. As a
result of this expedition the following species of golden trout have
been established by Dr. Evermann:
Golden Trout of Soda Creek (_Salmo whitei_),
Golden Trout of South Fork of Kern River (_Salmo agua-bonita_),
Golden Trout of Volcano Creek (_Salmo roosevelti_).
These trout are all small, averaging six to eight inches, but are quite
gamy and very free biters. The golden trout of Volcano Creek is the
handsomest and gamest. Of this fish Dr. Evermann says:
"This is the most beautiful of all the trouts; the brilliancy and
richness of the coloration is not equaled in any other known
species.... In form it is no less beautiful; its lines are perfect, the
fins large and well proportioned, and the caudal peduncle strong; all
fitting it admirably for life in the turbulent waters in which it
dwells. It is a small fish, however. The largest example collected by
us was eleven and one-fourth inches in total length, and the heaviest
one weighed ten ounces."
[Illustration: Sunapee Trout. (_Salvelinus aureolus._)]
"As a game-fish the golden trout is one of the best. It will rise to
any kind of lure, including the artificial fly, and at any time of day.
A No. 10 fly is large enough, perhaps too large; No. 12 or even smaller
is much better. In the morning and again in the evening it would take
the fly with a rush and make a good fight, jumping frequently when
permitted to do so; during the middle of the day it rose more
deliberately and could sometimes only be tempted with grasshoppers. It
is a fish that does not give up soon but continues the fight. Its
unusual breadth of fins and strength of caudal peduncle, together with
the turbulent water in which it dwells, enable it to make a fight
equaling that offered by many larger trout."
[Sidenote: Propagation of Golden Trout]
In the autumn of 1906 several hundred golden trout from Volcano Creek
were brought by a fish-car to the Bozeman Fisheries Station. In the
following spring several hundred eggs were taken from a few of the
largest fish, about six inches long, and it is hoped that this beautiful
trout may be successfully propagated, if only for its handsome
coloration.
[Sidenote: Sunapee Golden Trout (_Salvelinus aureolus_)]
This fine fish was first described by Dr. Tarleton H. Bean, in 1887,
from Sunapee Lake, New Hampshire. It exists, also, only in one or two
ponds or small lakes in the vicinity. It is almost identical with the
European char (_Salvelinus alpinus_). It is generally supposed to be
native to the waters mentioned, but there is a possibility that it was
introduced from Europe. However that may be it is now recognized as a
different species and a fine example of American trout. It grows to
about twelve pounds in weight, but unfortunately does not rise to the
fly. I have had no experience with this fish, but Dr. J. D. Quackenbos,
who, more than any one else brought the fish to notice, says:
[Sidenote: Not a Fly Fish]
[Sidenote: Trolling with Smelt]
"As far as known it does not rise to the fly.... Through the summer
months it is angled for with a live minnow or smelt, in sixty or seventy
feet of water, over cold bottom, in localities that have been baited.
While the smelt are inshore, trolling with a light fly-rod and fine
tackle, either with a Skinner spoon, No. 1, or a small smelt on a single
hook, will sometimes yield superb sport."