a char or gillaroo trout, and contains flies, gravel, and larvæ, with
their cases. The liver and bowels do not differ much from those of a
trout; and the ovaria or roe, with eggs as large as mustard seed, are on
each side the air bladder. Though a thicker fish, the grayling does not
weigh much more than the trout in proportion to his length: the greater
breadth of back is compensated by the more rapid tapering of tail, and a
trout in very high season will sometimes equal in weight a grayling of
the same length. The ova in this fish, and in the species generally, are
very small at this time of the year; but in the beginning of April, the
season of their spawning, they become nearly as large as the ova of the
trout—of the size of pepper-corns. But I see, Poietes, your rod is in
order, and there are many fish rising in this deep pool, some of which
are large grayling. The blue dun is on in quantity, and we have both
cloud and wind, which half an hour ago we had no right to expect. Let me
advise you to use three flies of different shades of the dun: the
stretcher, a pale blue with yellow body; the first dropper, a winged fly
with dun body; and the third, a similar fly with dark body. There, you
see; he rose and refused your stretcher—and again he has a second time
refused it. I think the colour of the dubbing is too bright: try a
winged fly for the stretcher with a greenish body. Good—he has taken it,
and ought to be a large fish. Now we have him: he is at least sixteen
inches long, and in good season. Ornither, I advise you to use the same
kind of fly, and to put up your tackle precisely in the same way as
Poietes has done.
POIET.—How well they rise! At that moment I had two on my line: one of
them is gone, but I hope I shall land the other.
HAL.—Fish with activity while the cloud lasts. I fear the sun is coming
out, when it will be more difficult to take fish. I shall try the next
pool, and I advise you to follow me and fish by turns,—passing each
other, and taking different pools below, and so wend your way downwards,
fishing wherever you see fish sporting. There is no better part of the
river than that pool below you, and you cannot take a wrong direction.
Immediately beyond Burrington Bridge you will find two excellent pools,
and I advise you to go no farther down to-day. If you take a fish
approaching 2lbs., keep him alive in the fish barrel for crimping; the
smaller fish you can kill, and carry with some rushes in your basket; we
shall at least be able to send a dish of grayling to the patron of our
sport at Downton.
NOON.
HAL.—Well, gentlemen, I hope you have been successful.
POIET.—We have had good sport; but I have been for some time reposing on
this bank, and admiring the scene below. How fine are these woods! How
beautiful these banks! the hills in the distance approach to the
character of mountains; and the precipitous cliff, which forms the
summit of that distant elevation, looks like a diluvian monument, and as
if it had been bared and torn by a deluge, which it had stemmed.
HAL.—It is one of the Clee hills, and its termination is basaltic, and
such rocks usually assume such forms. But though this spot is beautiful,
to-morrow, I hope to show you a more exquisite landscape,—cliffs and
woods, and gushing waters, of a character still more romantic. We will
return to our inn by a shorter road; but tell me, have you caught a
large fish amongst you, and preserved him for crimping?
POIET.—We have preserved two fishes in the barrel, but I fear they are
much below your proposed size.
HAL.—They are good fish, and of the average size of the large grayling
in this stream—16 inches long, and about 1½lb.; they will make a good
variety boiled and placed in the middle of the fried fish. And how many
have you caught altogether?
POIET.—I have basketed (to coin a word) three trout and six grayling.
PHYS.—And I have taken seven grayling. I caught trout likewise, but, not
considering them in proper season, I returned them to the river: but
Ornither has been the most successful—he has killed ten grayling.
HAL.—The trout is rarely good in this river—at least I never saw one
that cut red, and yet I have taken them in July, when their external
appearance was perfect and beautiful; but they have, to my taste, always
a flabby and soft character of flesh, and at all seasons here are
inferior for the table to grayling; yet they often attain a considerable
size. There are few small fish in these streams, and I suppose the
grayling, which are most numerous, deprive the trout of their proper
share of the food, depending upon larvæ and flies.
PHYS.—As we are walking through these meadows, pray give us some
information as to the habits of the grayling, and its localities in
England: I have been so much pleased with my sport, that I shall become,
with St. Ambrose, a patron of the fish.
HAL.—The habits of the grayling, like those of most other fish, are very
simple. He is, I believe, to a certain extent, gregarious—more so than
the trout, and less so than the perch, and the usual varieties of the
carp species known in England. His form and appearance you have seen. He
is as yet scarcely in his highest or most perfect season, which is in
the end of November or beginning of December, when his back is very
dark, almost black, and his belly and lower fins are nearly
gold-coloured; but his brightness, like that of most other fishes,
depends a good deal upon the nature of the water: and on the continent I
have seen fishes far more brilliantly coloured than in England—the lower
part almost a bright orange, and the back fin approaching to the colour
of the damask rose, or rather of an anemone. The grayling spawns in
April, and sometimes as late as the beginning of May: the female is
generally then followed by two or three males. She deposits her ova in
the tales of sharp streams, and the males, rubbing against her, shed
upon the ova the melt or semi-fluid. I do not know how long a time is
required for the exclusion of the young ones; but in the end of July, or
beginning of August, they are of the size of sprats, four or five inches
long, and already sport merrily at a fly. Though I have often taken
grayling in bad season, yet I have rarely observed upon them the same
kind of leech,[7] or louse, which is so often found upon the trout; from
which I infer, that they seldom hide themselves, or become torpid in the
mud. The grayling hatched in May or June, I conclude, become the same
year, in September or October, nine or ten inches long, and weigh from
_five ounces_ to _half a pound_; and the year after they are from twelve
to fifteen inches long, and weigh from three-quarters to a pound; and
these two sizes, as you have seen, are the fish that most usually rise
at the fly. The first size in this river is called _shote_, which is a
Celtic word, I believe, applied likewise in the west of England to small
trout. Of their growth after the second year I cannot speak; this must
depend much on their food and place of residence. Marsigli says, they do
not grow after the third year, and at this age, in Austria, they are
sometimes a cubit long; but though I have fished much in that country, I
never saw any so long. If they are taken into new and comparatively
still water recently made, and where food is plenty, they grow very
fast: under these circumstances, I have seen them above 3lbs. In the
Test, where, as I mentioned before, the grayling has been only recently
introduced, they have sometimes been caught between 3 and 4lbs.—in this
river I never took one above 2lbs. but I have heard of one being taken
of 2½lbs. The grayling is a rare fish in England, and has never been
found in Scotland and Ireland (as Poietes observed before;) and there
are few rivers containing all the conditions necessary for their
increase. I know of no grayling river farther west than the Avon, in
Hampshire: they are found in some of the tributary streams of this river
which rise in Wiltshire. I know of no river containing them on the north
coast west of the Severn: there are very few only in the upper part of
this river, and in the streams which form it in North Wales. There are a
few in the Wye and its tributary streams. In the Lug, which flows
through the next valley, in Herefordshire, many grayling are found. In
the Dee, as I have said before, they are found, but are not common. In
Derbyshire and Staffordshire, the Dove, the Wye, the Trent, and the
Blithe, afford grayling; in Yorkshire, on the north coast, some of the
tributary streams of the Ribble,—and in the south, the Ure, the Wharfe,
the Humber, the Derwent, and the streams that form it, particularly the
Rye. There may be some other localities of this fish unknown to me; but
as I have fished much, and enquired much respecting the places where it
is found, I think my information tolerably correct and complete.
PHYS.—Is this fish to be fished for in spring?
HAL.—He is to be fished for at all times, for he is rarely so much out
of season as to be a bad fish; and when there are flies on the water, he
will generally take them: but as the trout may be considered as a spring
and summer fish, so the grayling may be considered as a winter and
autumnal fish.
PHYS.—Of course the grayling is taken in spring with the same imitation
of flies as the trout?
HAL.—The same. As far as flies are concerned, these two species feed
alike; though I may say, generally, that the grayling prefers smaller
flies, and the varieties of the ephemeræ or phryganeæ, of the smallest
size, form their favourite food. Yet grayling do not refuse large flies;
and in the Avon and Test, May flies, and even moths, are greedily taken
in the summer by large grayling. Flies, likewise, that do not inhabit
the water, but are blown from the land, are good baits for grayling.
There is no method more killing, for large grayling, than applying a
grasshopper to the point of a leaded hook, the lead and shank of which
are covered with green and yellow silk, to imitate the body of the
animal. This mode of fishing is called sinking and drawing. I have seen
it practised in this river with as much success as maggot fishing; and
the fish taken were all of the largest size; the method being most
successful in deep holes, where the bottom was not visible, which are
the natural haunts of such fish. In the winter, grayling rise for an
hour or two, in bright and tolerably warm weather; and, at this time,
the smallest imitations of black or pale gnats that can be made, on the
smallest sized hook, succeed best in taking them. In March, the
dark-bodied willow fly may be regarded as the earliest fly; the
imitation of which is made by a dark claret dubbing and a dun hackle, or
four small starling’s wing feathers. The blue dun comes on in the middle
of the day in this month, and is imitated by dun hackles for wings and
legs, and an olive dubbing for body. In milder weather, in morning and
evening in this month, and through April, the green tail, or grannom,
comes on in great quantities, and is well imitated by a hen pheasant’s
wing feather, a gray or red hackle for legs, and a dark peacock’s harle,
or dark hare’s ear fur, for the body. The same kind of fly, of a larger
size, with paler wings, kills well in the evening, through May or June.
The imitation of a water insect called the spider fly, with a
lead-coloured body and woodcock’s wings, is said to be a killing bait,
on this and other rivers, in the end of April and beginning of May; but
I never happened to see it on the water. The dark alder fly, in May and
June, is taken greedily by the fish: it is imitated by a dark-shaded
pheasant’s wing, black hackle for legs, and a peacock’s harle, ribbed
with red silk, for the body. At this season, and in July, imitations of
the black and red palmer worms, which I believe are taken for black or
brown, or red beetles or cockchaffers, kill well; and, in dark weather,
there are usually very light duns on the water. In August, imitations of
the house fly and blue bottle, and the red and black ant fly, are taken,
and are particularly killing after floods in autumn, when great
quantities of the fly are destroyed and washed down the river. In this
month, in cloudy days, pale-blue duns often appear; and they are still
more common in September. Throughout the summer and autumn, in fine calm
evenings, a large dun fly, with a pale yellow body, is greedily taken by
grayling after sunset; and the imitation of it is very killing. In the
end of October, and through November, there is no fly fishing but in the
middle of the day, when imitations of the smaller duns may be used with
great success; and I have often seen the fish sport most, and fly
fishing pursued with the greatest success, in bright sunshine, from
twelve till half-past two o’clock, after severe frosts in the morning;
and I once caught, under these circumstances, a very fine dish of fish
on the 7th of November. It was in the year 1816; the summer and autumn
had been peculiarly cold and wet, and, probably in consequence of this,
the flies were in smaller quantity at their usual season, and there was
a greater proportion later in the year.
Grayling, if you take your station by the side of a river, will rise
nearer to you than trout, for they lie deeper, and therefore are not so
much scared by an object on the bank; but they are more delicate in the
choice of their flies than trout, and will much oftener rise and refuse
the fly. Trout, from lying nearer the surface, are generally taken
before grayling, where the water is slightly coloured, or after a flood:
and in rain, trout usually rise better than grayling, though it
sometimes happens, when great quantities of flies come out in rain,
grayling, as well as trout, are taken with more certainty than at any
other time;—the artificial fly, in such cases, looks like a wet fly, and
allures even the grayling, which generally is more difficult to deceive
than trout in the same river.
PHYS.—As I was looking into a ditch coming down the river, which is
connected with it, I saw a very large eel at the bottom, that appeared
to me to be feeding on a small grayling:—are there many of this fish in
the Teme, and do they breed here?
HAL.—There are many of this fish in the river; but to your question, do
they breed here? I must answer in the negative. The problem of their
generation is the most abstruse, and one of the most curious, in natural
history; and though it occupied the attention of Aristotle, and has been
taken up by most distinguished naturalists since his time, it is still
unsolved.
PHYS.—I thought there was no doubt on the subject. Lacepede, whose book
is the only scientific one on fishes I have read with attention,
asserts, in the most unqualified way, that they are viviparous.
HAL.—I remember his assertion, but I looked in vain for proofs.
PHYS.—I do not remember any _facts_ brought forward on the subject; but
tell us what you think upon it.
HAL.—I will tell you all I know, which is not much. This is certain,
that there are two migrations of eels,—one up and one down rivers, one
_from_ and the other _to_ the sea; the first in spring and summer, the
second in autumn or early winter. The first, of very small eels, which
are sometimes not more than two or two and a half inches long; the
second, of large eels, which sometimes are three or four feet long, and
weigh from 10 to 15, or even 20lbs. There is great reason to believe,
that all eels found in fresh water are the results of the first
migration: they appear in millions in April and May, and sometimes
continue to rise as late even as July and the beginning of August. I
remember this was the case in Ireland, in 1823. It had been a cold
backward summer, and when I was at Ballyshannon, about the end of July,
the mouth of the river, which had been in flood all this month, under
the fall, was blackened by millions of little eels, about as long as the
finger, which were constantly urging their way up the moist rocks by the
side of the fall. Thousands died, but their bodies remaining moist,
served as the ladder for others to make their way; and I saw some
ascending even perpendicular stones, making their road through wet moss,
or adhering to some eels, that had died in the attempt. Such is the
energy of these little animals, that they continue to find their way, in
immense numbers, to Loch Erne. The same thing happens at the fall of the
Bann, and Loch Neagh is thus peopled by them: even the mighty Fall of
Shaffhausen does not prevent them from making their way to the Lake of
Constance, where I have seen many very large eels.
PHYS.—You have shown, that some eels come from the sea, but I do not
think the facts prove, that all eels are derived from that source.
HAL.—Pardon me—I have not concluded. There are eels in the Lake of
Neufchatel, which communicates by a stream with the Rhine; but there are
none in the Leman Lake, because the Rhone makes a subterraneous fall
below Geneva; and though small eels can pass by moss or mount rocks,
they cannot penetrate limestone, or move against a rapid descending
current of water, passing, as it were, through a pipe. Again: no eels
mount the Danube from the Black Sea; and there are none found in the
great extent of lakes, swamps, and rivers communicating with the
Danube,—though some of these lakes and morasses are wonderfully fitted
for them, and though they are found abundantly in the same countries, in
lakes and rivers connected with the ocean and the Mediterranean. Yet,
when brought into confined water in the Danube, they fatten and thrive
there. As to the instinct, which leads young eels to seek fresh water,
it is difficult to reason;—probably they prefer warmth, and, swimming at
the surface in the early summer, find the lighter water warmer, and
likewise containing more insects, and so pursue the courses of fresh
water, as the waters from the land, at this season, become warmer than
those of the sea. Mr. J. Couch (Lin. Trans. T. xiv. p. 70) says, that
the little eels, according to his observation, are produced within reach
of the tide, and climb round falls to reach fresh water from the sea. I
have sometimes seen them, in spring, swimming in immense shoals in the
Atlantic, in Mount Bay, making their way to the mouths of small brooks
and rivers. When the cold water from the autumnal floods begins to swell
the rivers, this fish tries to return to the sea; but numbers of the
smaller ones hide themselves during the winter in the mud, and many of
them form, as it were, masses together. Various authors have recorded
the migration of eels in a singular way,—such as Dr. Plot, who, in his
History of Staffordshire, says, that they pass in the night, across
meadows, from one pond to another: and Mr. Arderon (in Trans. Royal
Soc.) gives a distinct account of small eels rising up the flood-gates
and posts of the water-works of the city of Norwich; and they made their
way to the water above, though the boards were smooth planed, and five
or six feet perpendicular. He says, when they first rose out of the
water upon the dry board, they rested a little—which seemed to be till
their slime was thrown out, and sufficiently glutinous—and then they
rose up the perpendicular ascent with the same facility as if they had
been moving on a plane surface.—(Trans. Abr. vol. ix. p. 311.) There
can, I think, be no doubt, that they are assisted by their small scales,
which, placed like those of serpents, must facilitate their progressive
motion: these scales have been microscopically observed by
Lewenhoeck.—(Phil. Trans. vol. iv.) Eels migrate from the salt water of
different sizes, but I believe never when they are above a foot long—and
the great mass of them are only from two and a half to four inches. They
feed, grow, and fatten in fresh water. In small rivers they are seldom
very large; but in large deep lakes they become as thick as a man’s arm,
or even leg; and all those of a considerable size attempt to return to
the sea in October or November, probably when they experience the cold
of the first autumnal rains. Those that are not of the largest size, as
I said before, pass the winter in the deepest parts of the mud of rivers
and lakes, and do not seem to eat much, and remain, I believe, almost
torpid. Their increase is not certainly known in any given time, but
must depend upon the quantity of their food: but it is probable they do
not become of the largest size, from the smallest, in one or even two
seasons; but this, as well as many other particulars, can only be
ascertained by new observations and experiments. Blotch states, that
they grow slowly, and mentions, that some had been kept in the same pond
for fifteen years. As very large eels, after having migrated, never
return to the river again, they must (for it cannot be supposed that
they all die immediately in the sea) remain in salt water; and there is
great probability, that they are then confounded with the conger, which
is found of different colours and sizes—from the smallest to the
largest—from a few ounces to one hundred pounds in weight. The colour of
the conger is generally paler than that of the eel; but, in the
Atlantic, it is said, that pale congers are found on one side of the
Wolf Rock, and dark ones on the other. The conger has breathing tubes,
which are said not to be found in the other eel; but to determine this
would require a more minute examination than has yet been made. Both the
conger and common eel have fringes along the air bladder, which are
probably the ovaria; and Sir E. Home thinks them hermaphrodite, and that
the seminal vessels are close to the kidneys. I hope this great
comparative anatomist will be able to confirm his views by new
dissections, and some chemical researches upon the nature of the fringes
and the supposed melt. If viviparous, and the fringes contain the ova,
one mother must produce tens of thousands, the ova being remarkably
small; but it appears more probable, that they are oviparous, and that
they deposit their ova in parts of the sea near deep basins, which
remain warm in winter. This might be ascertained by experiment,
particularly on the coasts of the Mediterranean. I cannot find, that
they haunt the Arctic ocean, which is probably of too low a temperature
to suit their feelings or habits; and the Caspian and the Black Sea are
probably without them, from their not being found in the Volga or
Danube; these, being shallow seas, are perhaps too cold for them in
winter. From the time (April) that small eels begin to migrate, it is
probable that they are generated in winter; and the pregnant eels ought
to be looked for in November, December, and January. I opened one in
December, in which the fringes were abundant, but I did not examine them
under the microscope, or chemically. I trust this curious problem will
not remain much longer unsolved.
EIGHTH DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
SCENE—DOWNTON.
POIET.—THIS is a beautiful day, and, I think, for fishing, as well as
for the enjoyment of the scenery, finer than yesterday. The wind blows
from the south, and is balmy; and though a few clouds are collecting,
they are not sufficiently dense to exclude the warmth of the sun; and,
as lovers of the angle, we ought prefer his warmth to his light.
HAL.—I do not think, as the day advances, there will be any deficiency
of light; and I shall not be sorry for this, as it will enable you to
see the grounds of Downton, and the distances in the landscape, to more
advantage: nor will light interfere much with our sport in this valley,
where, as you see, there is no want of shade.
POIET.—This spot is really very fine. The fall of water, the picturesque
mill, the abrupt cliff, and the bank, covered with noble oaks, above the
river, compose a scene such as I have rarely beheld in this island.
HAL.—We will wander a little longer through the walks. There you will
enter a subterraneous passage in the rock beyond the mossy grotto.
Behold, the castle, or mansion-house, clothed in beautiful vegetables,
of which the red creeper is most distinct, rises above on the hill!
After we have finished our walk and our fishing, I will, if you please,
take you to the house, and introduce you to its worthy master, whom to
know is to love, to whom all good anglers should be grateful, and who
has a strong claim to a more extensive gratitude—that of his country and
of society—by his scientific researches on vegetable nature, which are
not merely curious, but useful, and which have already led to great
improvements in our fruits and plants, and generally extended the
popularity of horticulture.
PHYS.—We shall be much obliged to you for the favour—provided always,
you know it will not be an intrusion.