Salmonia; Or, Days of Fly Fishing / In a series of conversations. With some account of the habits of fishes belonging to the genus Salmo

by Sir Humphry Davy

EVENING.

Hal.—I am sure I may congratulate you on your sport, for I see on the bank a fine salmon, three grauls or grilses, and three large sea trout.

Orn.—You have not seen all, for we have crimped two fish—one a large salmon, and the other a trout almost a yard long, and both in excellent season. We have had great sport, and sport even of a kind which you will not guess at; for, when the tide was falling, the fish ceased to rise at the fly, and I thought of trying them with a bait; so we sent for our swivel tackle, and put par or samlet on our hooks, as we bait for pike—cutting off one ventral fin on one side, and one pectoral fin on the other; and making the par spin in the most rapid streams, we had several runs from fish, and it was in this way that Poietes caught this large sea trout, which gave excellent sport.

Hal.—This kind of fishing is not uncommon. I have often caught salmon in the Tay, fishing with pars; but though the fish ran at the bait, when they would not rise at the fly while the tide was ebbing, they would have taken the par better still while it was flowing.

Phys.—From my experience to-day, I conclude the salmon has habits different from the trout; for I think the fish which broke my hook rose again at the artificial fly in the same place.

Hal.—I think you are mistaken. Salmon are usually shyer even than trout, and I never knew one in this season, that had been pricked even slightly, rise again at the artificial fly in the same pool. I should say, that their habits were precisely the same, but with more sagacity on the side of the salmon. It must have been another fish that rose at your fly in the same place. After such severe discipline, I do not think a fish would rise for many hours, even at a natural bait.

Poiet.—Your experience is so great, that I dare say I was mistaken, yet it seemed a fish of the same size.

Hal.—Salmon often in this season haunt the streams in pairs; but so far from rising again after being pricked, they appear to me to learn, when they have been some time in the river, that the artificial fly is not food, even without having been touched by the hook. In the river at Galway, in Ireland, I have seen above the bridge some hundreds of salmon lying in rapid streams, and from five to ten fishermen tempting them with every variety of fly, but in vain. After a fish had been thrown over a few times, and risen once or twice and refused the fly, he rarely ever took any notice of it again in that place. It was generally nearest the tide that fish were taken, and the place next the sea was the most successful stand, and the most coveted; and when the water is low and clear in this river, the Galway fishermen resort to the practice of fishing with a naked hook, endeavouring to entangle it in the bodies of the fish; a most unartistlike practice. In spring fishing, I have known a hungry, half-starved salmon rise at the artificial fly a second time, after having been very slightly touched by it; but even this rarely happens, and when I have seen it, the water has been coloured.

Phys.—Can you tell us why the fish rise better at the fly when the tide is flowing, than when it is ebbing? There seems no reason why flies should be sought for by the fish at one of these seasons, rather than at the other.

Hal.—The turn of the salt water brings up aquatic insects, and perhaps small fish; and I suppose salmon know this, and search for food at a time when it is likely to be found. I cannot think, that in these pools they can be on the look-out for flies, for there are never any on the surface of the water; and I imagine they take the gaudy fly, with its blue kingfisher and golden pheasant’s feathers, for a small fish.

Orn.—I have always supposed that they took it for a libella, or dragon-fly; for I have often seen these brilliant flies haunting the water.

Hal.—I never saw a dragon-fly drop on the water, or taken by a fish; and salmon sometimes rise even in the salt water, where dragon-flies are never found. There is no difficulty in explaining why salmon in inland rivers should take flies, where natural flies are abundant; but fish, when they have lain long in pools in the river and fed on natural flies, will no longer take these bright flies, and then even a trout-fly is often most successful. I have sometimes thought that the rising of salmon and sea trout at these bright flies, as soon as they come from the sea into rivers, might depend upon a sort of imperfect memory of their early food and habits; for flies form a great part of the food of the salmon fry, which, for a month or two after they are hatched, feed like young trouts—and in March and April the spring flies are their principal nourishment. In going back to fresh water, they may perhaps have their habits of feeding recalled to them, and naturally search for their food at the surface.

Poiet.—This appears to me very probable.—But it is late, and we must return and compare the crimped trout and salmon; and I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for the clouds are red in the west.

Phys.—I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint of purple.

Hal.—Do you know why this tint portends fine weather?

Phys.—The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more red, or heat-making, rays; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are again reflected in the horizon. I have generally observed a coppery or yellow sunset to foretel rain; but, as an indication of wet weather approaching, nothing is more certain than a halo round the moon, which is produced by the precipitated water; and the larger the circle, the nearer the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall.

Hal.—I have often observed, that the old proverb is correct—

A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd’s warning:

A rainbow at night is the shepherd’s delight.

Can you explain this omen?

Phys.—A rainbow can only occur when the clouds containing, or depositing, the rain are opposite to the sun,—and in the evening the rainbow is in the east, and in the morning in the west; and as our heavy rains, in this climate, are usually brought by the westerly wind, a rainbow in the west indicates, that the bad weather is on the road, by the wind, to us; whereas the rainbow in the east proves, that the rain in these clouds is passing from us.

Poiet.—I have often observed, that when the swallows fly high, fine weather is to be expected or continued; but when they fly low, and close to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching. Can you account for this?

Hal.—Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats usually delight in warm strata of air; and as warm air is lighter, and usually moister, than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high, there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by the mixture with cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the surface, it is almost certain, that, as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of water will take place.

Poiet.—I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the land, and have almost always observed, that very stormy and rainy weather was approaching. I conclude, that these animals, sensible of a current of air approaching from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter themselves from the storm.

Orn.—No such thing. The storm is their element; and the little petrel enjoys the heaviest gale, because, living on the smaller sea insects, he is sure to find his food in the spray of a heavy wave—and you may see him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I believe, that the reason of this migration of seagulls, and other sea birds, to the land, is their security of finding food. They may be observed, at this time, feeding greedily on the earth worms and larvæ, driven out of the ground by severe floods; and the fish, on which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface, when storms prevail and go deeper. The search after food, as we agreed on a former occasion, is the principal cause why animals change their places. The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place; and I remember once, in Italy, having been long waiting, in the end of March, for the arrival of the double snipe in the Campagna of Rome,—a great flight appeared on the 3d of April, and the day after heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered with my sport. The vulture, upon the same principle, follows armies; and I have no doubt, that the augury of the ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instincts of birds. There are many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same source. For anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see single magpies,—but two may be always regarded as a favourable omen; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy weather one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the young ones; but when two go out together, the weather is warm and mild, and thus favourable for fishing.

Poiet.—The singular connexions of causes and effects, to which you have just referred, make superstition less to be wondered at, particularly amongst the vulgar; and when two facts, naturally unconnected, have been accidentally coincident, it is not singular that this coincidence should have been observed and registered, and that omens of the most absurd kind should be trusted in. In the west of England, half a century ago, a particular hollow noise on the sea coast was referred to a spirit or goblin, called Bucca, and was supposed to foretel a shipwreck: the philosopher knows, that sound travels much faster than currents in the air—and the sound always foretold the approach of a very heavy storm, which seldom takes place on that wild and rocky coast, surrounded as it is by the Atlantic, without a shipwreck on some part of its extensive shores.

Phys.—All the instances of omens you have mentioned are founded on reason; but how can you explain such absurdities as Friday being an unlucky day, the terror of spilling salt, or meeting an old woman? I knew a man, of very high dignity, who was exceedingly moved by these omens, and who never went out shooting without a bittern’s claw fastened to his buttonhole by a ribband—which he thought ensured him good luck.

Poiet.—These, as well as the omens of death watches, dreams, &c., are for the most part founded upon some accidental coincidences; but spilling of salt, on an uncommon occasion, may, as I have known it, arise from a disposition to apoplexy, shown by an incipient numbness in the hand, and may be a fatal symptom; and persons, dispirited by bad omens, sometimes prepare the way for evil fortune; for confidence in success is a great means of ensuring it. The dream of Brutus, before the field of Philippi, probably produced a species of irresolution and despondency, which was the principal cause of his losing the battle: and I have heard, that the illustrious sportsman, to whom you referred just now, was always observed to shoot ill, because he shot carelessly, after one of his dispiriting omens.

Hal.—I have in life met with a few things, which I found it impossible to explain, either by chance coincidences or by natural connexions; and I have known minds of a very superior class affected by them,—persons in the habit of reasoning deeply and profoundly.

Phys.—In my opinion, profound minds are the most likely to think lightly of the resources of human reason: it is the pert, superficial thinker who is generally strongest in every kind of unbelief. The deep philosopher sees chains of causes and effects so wonderfully and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last person to decide upon the impossibility of any two series of events being independent of each other; and in science, so many natural miracles, as it were, have been brought to light,—such as the fall of stones from meteors in the atmosphere, the disarming a thunder cloud by a metallic point, the production of fire from ice by a metal white as silver, and referring certain laws of motion of the sea to the moon,—that the physical inquirer is seldom disposed to assert, confidently, on any abstruse subjects belonging to the order of natural things, and still less so on those relating to the more mysterious relations of moral events and intellectual natures.

SEVENTH DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
GRAYLING FISHING.

Scene—Leintwardine, near Ludlow.
Time—Beginning of October.

Hal.—You have reached your quarters. Here is your home—a rural, peaceable, and unassuming inn, with as worthy a host and hostess as may be found in this part of the country. The river glides at the bottom of the garden, and there is no stream in England more productive of grayling. The surrounding scenery is not devoid of interest, and the grounds in the distance are covered with stately woods, and laid out (or rather their natural beauties developed) by the hand of a master, whose liberal and enlightened mind even condescended to regard the amusements of the angler; and he could hardly have contributed in a more effectual manner to their comforts, than by placing the good people, who were once his servants, in this comfortable inn.

Phys.—Are we to fish according to any rule, as to quantity or size of fish?

Hal.—You are at perfect liberty to fish as you like; but as it is possible you may catch grayling only of this year, and which are not longer than the hand, I conclude you will return such pigmies to the river, as a matter of propriety, though not of necessity.

Poiet.—This river seems formed of two other streams, which join above our inn. What are the names of its sources?

Hal.—The small river to the left is called the Teme, or Little Teme, and though the least stream, it gives name to the river: the other, and more copious stream, is called the Clun. The Little Teme contains principally trout; the Clun, both trout and grayling: but the fish are more abundant in the meadows, between this place and Downton, than in other parts of the river; for above, the stream is too rapid and shallow to be favourable to their increase; and below, it is joined by other streams, and becomes too abundant in coarse fish.

Poiet.—I cannot understand why the grayling should be so scarce a fish in England. It is abundant in many districts on the continent; but in this island it is found, I believe, only in a few rivers, and does not exist, I think, either in Ireland or Scotland. Yet, being an Alpine fish, and naturally fond of cool water, it might have been expected among the Highlands.

Hal.—I formerly used to account for this, by supposing it an imported fish, and not indigenous; but, in some of my continental excursions, I have seen it living only under such peculiar circumstances, that I doubt the correctness of this my early opinion.

Poiet.—Which was, I conclude, that it was introduced by the monks, in the time when England was under the See of Rome. As a favourite fish of St. Ambrose it was worth cultivating, as well as for its own sake; and I think you have done wrong to relinquish this idea, for, as far as my recollection serves me, the rivers that contain it are near the ruins of great monasteries. The Avon, near Salisbury; the Ure, near Fountain’s Abbey; the Wye, near the great Abbey of Tintern; and, if I am not mistaken, in the lower part of this valley there are the remains of an extensive establishment of friars.

Hal.—But there are rivers near the ruins of some of the most magnificent establishments of this kind in Europe, and those nearest the continent, where the grayling is not found; for instance, in the Stour, at Canterbury. And if the grayling be an imported fish, it is wonderful, that it should not be found in the rivers in Kent, and along the south-west coast of England, as in Dorsetshire, Devonshire, and Cornwall, where the monastic establishments were numerous; and why it should be found in some rivers in the mountainous parts of Wales, as in that near Llan-wrted and the Dee; not near Val Crusis Abbey, but fifteen miles higher up, between Corwen and Bala.

Poiet.—It may have been a fish imported from the continent, and carried to a number of rivers, only a few of which may have suited its habits, and has remained there and multiplied.

Hal.—There may be truth in what you are now imagining, for the grayling requires a number of circumstances in a river to enable it to increase.

Poiet.—What circumstances are these?

Hal.—A temperature in the water which must be moderate—neither too high nor too low. Grayling are never found in streams that run from glaciers—at least near their source; and they are killed by cold or heat. I once put some grayling from the Teme, in September, with some trout, into a confined water, rising from a spring in the yard at Downton; the grayling all died, but the trout lived. And in the hot summer of 1825, great numbers of large grayling died in the Avon, below Ringwood, without doubt killed by the heat in July.

Poiet.—But I have heard of grayling being common in Lapland—at least so says Linnæus.

Hal.—I think it must be another species of the same genus; the same as Back’s grayling found by Captain Franklin and his companions in North America, and distinguished by a much larger back fin. Having travelled with the fishing-rod in my hand through most of the Alpine valleys in the south and east of Europe, and some of those in Norway and Sweden, I have always found the char in the coldest and highest waters; the trout, in the brooks rising in the highest and coldest mountains; and the grayling always lower, where the temperature was milder: and if in hot countries, only at the foot of mountains, not far from sources which had the mean temperature of the atmosphere,—as in the Vipacco, near Goritzia, and in the streams which gush forth from the limestone caverns of the Nordic Alps. Besides temperature, grayling require a peculiar character in the disposition of the water of rivers. They do not dwell, like trout, in rapid shallow torrents; nor, like char or chub, in deep pools or lakes. They require a combination of stream and pool; they like a deep still pool for rest, and a rapid stream above, and a gradually declining shallow below, and a bottom where marl or loam is mixed with gravel; and they are not found abundant except in rivers that have these characters. It is impossible to have a more perfect specimen of a grayling river than that now running before us, in this part of its course. You see a succession of deep still pools under shady banks of marl, with gentle rapids above, and a long shelving tail, where the fish sport and feed. Should there be no such pools in a river, grayling would remain, provided the water was clear, and would breed; but they cannot stem rapid streams, and they are gradually carried down lower and lower, and at last disappear. You know the Test, one of the finest trout streams in Hampshire, and of course in England; when I first knew this stream, twenty years ago, there were no grayling in it. A gentleman brought some from the Avon, and introduced them into the river at Longstock, above Stockbridge. They were for two or three years very abundant in that part of the river; but they gradually descended, and though they multiplied greatly, there are now scarcely any above Stockbridge. There were, four years ago, many in the river just below; but this year there are very few there, and the great proportion that remains is found below Houghton. I ought to mention, that the water is particularly fitted for them, and they become larger in this river than in their native place, the Avon,—some of them weighing between 3 and 4lbs. The trout, in all its habits of migration, runs upward, seeking the fresh and cool waters of mountain sources to spawn in: the grayling, I believe, has never the same habit of running up stream; I never saw one leaping at a fall, where trout are so often seen. Their large back fin seems intended to enable them to rise and sink rapidly in deep pools; and the slender nature of the body, towards the tail, renders them much more unfit for leaping cataracts than trout and salmon. The temperature of the water, and its character as to still and stream, seem of more importance than clearness; for I have seen grayling taken in streams, that are almost constantly turbid,—as in the Inn and the Salza in the Tyrol. This fish appears to require food of a particular kind, feeding much upon flies and their larvæ, and not usually preying upon small fish, as the trout. It has a very strong stomach, in texture like that of the gillaroo trout, and is exceedingly fond of those larvæ which inhabit cases, and are usually covered with sand or gravel. I once caught a grayling in the Wochain Save, that weighed about a pound and a half, the stomach of which equalled in size a very large walnut, and contained some small shells, and two or three white round pebbles as large as small beans. In accordance with their general habits of feeding, grasshoppers are amongst their usual food in the end of summer and autumn; and at all seasons, maggots, upon fine tackle and a small hook, offer a secure mode of taking them,—the pool having been previously baited for the purpose of angling, by throwing in a handful or two a few minutes before.

Poiet.—You just now said, that you thought the Lapland fish, considered by Linnæus as grayling, was the same as Back’s grayling; but I find, in the Appendix to Captain Franklin’s narration, two graylings described as belonging to the northern regions,—one the Coregonus Signifer, and another, which appears to differ very little from it, except being small in size. This seems to agree as nearly as possible with our grayling, with a difference of at most one spine in the back fin. May not this in fact be the same fish as the grayling of the Alps, only rendered in a succession of generations fit for a colder climate?

Hal.—This is certainly possible: there is no doubt, that, in many successive generations, animals may be fitted to bear changes, which would have destroyed their progenitors. It is said by Bloch, that graylings are found in the Caspian Sea, and in the Baltic,—masses of saline water; though, as I have proved, the grayling of England will not bear even a brackish water, without dying. And notwithstanding the severity of the winter in high northern latitudes, streams under the ice may retain a temperature not much lower than some of the Alpine rivers. I have seen grayling in Carniola, in a source at the hottest season not quite 50°; and as, in large bodies of water, the deepest part, in frost, is generally the warmest—about 40°, the degree at which water is heaviest—I see no reason why grayling may not be habituated to such a temperature—coolness being generally favourable to their existence. But see, the fog which had filled the valley and hid the mountains from our sight is clearing away, and I fear it will be a hot day. Before the sun becomes too bright is the best time for fishing, in such a day as this. As soon as the fog is fairly off, the water-flies will begin to appear, and fish to sport.

Phys.—I see the fog has already disappeared from the deep water in the meadow, where I suppose the warmth of the air from the considerable mass of the water, is greater; and which is further removed from the hills sending down currents of cold air, from the mixture of which with the moist warm air above the river this phenomenon is produced. I see some yellow flies beginning to come out; they have already felt the influence of the warm air: and look! a fish has just risen opposite that bank, and he rises again: let us prepare our tackle.

Poiet.—What flies shall we employ?

Hal.—I recommend at least three; for the grayling lies deeper and is not so shy a fish as the trout; and, provided your link is fine, is not apt to be scared by the cast of flies on the water. The fineness of the link, and of the guts to which your flies are attached, is a most essential point, and the clearer the stream the finer should be the tackle. I have known good fishermen foiled by using a gut of ordinary thickness, though their fly was of the right size and colour. Very slender transparent gut of the colour of the water is one of the most important causes of success in grayling fishing. Let me see your book: I will select a fine stretcher. Now, for the lowest fly, use a yellow-bodied fly, with red hackle for legs, and landrail’s wing: for the second, a blue dun, with dun body; and for the highest, the claret coloured body, with blue wings; and let your first dropper fly be about three feet from the stretcher and from the other dropper, and let the hanging link which attaches them be 3½ inches long.

Phys.—There are several fish rising: I shall throw at that opposite—he appears large.

Hal.—It is a trout and not a grayling.

Phys.—How do you know?

Hal.—By his mode of rising. He is lying at the top of the water, taking the flies as they sail down by him, which a grayling scarcely ever does. He rises rapidly from the bottom or middle of the water, on the contrary—darting upwards, and, having seized his fly, returns to his station. There! a grayling has risen. I do not mean, however, that this habit is invariable; I have sometimes seen trout feed like grayling, and grayling like trout, but neither of these fish emits bubbles of air in rising, as dace and chub do.

Phys.—I have one! He has taken my blue dun, and must be a small one, for he plays with no vigour.

Hal.—He is about ¾lb.—a fish of two years and a half old—very good for the table. I will land him if possible.

Phys.—There! He is off!

Hal.—This happens often with grayling: their mouths are tender, and unless the hook catches in the upper lip, which is rather thick, it is more than an equal chance that the fish escapes you.

Phys.—Here, I have another, that has taken the stretcher, and as it is a larger hook, I hope he may be held. He is likewise a larger fish—but how oddly he spins! This, I suppose, must be owing to his large back fin, by which the stream carries him round. There he is: he has quite twisted my link; it would not be amiss to have swivels for this kind of fishing.

Hal.—It is a fish in good season,—dark above, fair below, and weighs, I should suppose, about 1¼lb.

Phys.—As this is the first grayling I have seen of my own taking, I must measure, weigh, and examine him.

Hal.—We can do this hereafter. See, our fish barrel; he can be kept alive till a more convenient time of the day.

Phys.—I am disposed to gratify my curiosity immediately: for to acquire information is at least as interesting to me as catching fish. I shall kill him by a blow on the head. He is not, I suppose, worth crimping afterwards?

Hal.—Certainly not, at this time; and it is not necessary with a fish of this size, which ought to be fried; but if we catch a large grayling, approaching to 2lbs., he shall be killed, crimped, and boiled, like our Denham trout; you will then find him excellent, and not inferior, in my opinion, to the best perch—more like the most exquisitely tasted of all our fish, the red mullet.

Phys.—Out of the water, this is a handsome fish, broader round the middle, and more hog-backed than the trout, but gracefully tapering towards the tail. The belly, I see, is silvery with yellow; and the pectoral, ventral, and anal fins are almost gold-coloured; the back gray with small black spots, and the back fin of a beautiful bright purple, with black and blue spots. It has likewise an agreeable odour; so that both from its colour and smell it does not seem undeserving the title given it by St. Ambrose, of the flower of fishes. It measures, I find, 14 inches in length; in girth 7½. It weighs 17 ounces. It has 10 spines in the pectoral fin, 23 in the dorsal, 16 in the ventral, 14 in the anal, and 18 in the caudal.

Hal.—Now for its anatomy. Its stomach is very thick, not unlike that of 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.