FLY-FISHING FOR TROUT.
By Ripley Hitchcock.
There was once a boy who thought that he could choose his birthday present more wisely than could his father and mother. He wanted an "arrow rifle"—a useless affair which has long since gone to the place where toys which are failures go. He was disappointed however. His birthday brought him not an "arrow rifle," but a light, jointed fishing-rod. Now this boy had already done some fishing with a heavy bamboo pole, or with one cut from an alder, jerking the fish out of the water, and swinging them over his head. To be sure the heavy pole made his arms ache, but his new rod, which bent at every touch, seemed to him too slender and flimsy to be of any use whatever.
I fear he was not very grateful at first, but he was properly rebuked when his father took a day from professional cares, and opened the lad's eyes to the pleasure of fishing with light tackle. When he had learned to "cast" flies with his elastic, strong rod, without hooking somebody or something not meant to be hooked; when he had seen the beautiful vermilion-spotted trout flash clear of the water, tempted by the flies; and when he had found that he could tire out and land larger fish than he had ever caught before, simply by pitting against their cunning and strength, skill and patience instead of mere brute force,—then there was opened to that boy a new world of sport and healthy recreation. He has never regretted the "arrow rifle"; and he now proposes to tell the boys as well as the girls who read St. Nicholas how to obtain something which is within the reach of both,—the greatest possible pleasure from fishing.
If one could take a bird's-eye view of our country at any time in the summer, he would see boys and girls catching all kinds of fish in all kinds of ways; some off the coast in sailboats, tugging at bluefish or mackerel, others profiting by St. Nicholas's lessons in black-bass fishing, some "skittering" for pickerel in New England lakes, others trolling for pike in the lakes and rivers of the West. But of all the fresh-water game fish there is none more beautiful and graceful or more active than the trout.
RAINBOW TROUT.
Any New York boy who has never caught a trout should go down to Fulton Market at the opening of the trout season, when trout are gathered there from all parts of the country. He will see "rainbow" trout from the Rocky Mountains, their sides iridescent, and stained as if marked by a bloody finger. These are being introduced into Eastern waters. He will find trout in the blackest of mourning robes and others gayly dressed in silver tinsel. Sometimes the vermilion spots on the side shine like fire; again they are as dull as if the fire had gone out and left only gray ashes. For there are several varieties of trout known to naturalists and traveled fishermen, and even the brook trout, called by the formidable name of Salmo fontinalis, varies greatly in color and shape in different localities. In Arizona, I have caught trout which were fairly black. In Dublin Lake in New Hampshire, the trout look like bars of polished silver as they are drawn up through the water. I never saw a more sharply marked contrast than that between the trout of two little Maine lakes, near the head-waters of the Androscoggin River. In one, the trout were long, and as thin as race-horses, and their flesh was of a salmon-pink hue; in the other, not half a mile away, the trout were short, thick, and almost hump-backed, with darker skins and lighter flesh. The first lake had a sandy, gravelly bottom, and the water was clear as crystal; the bottom of the second was muddy, and the water dark and turbid. This explained the difference in the fish, a difference always existing in trout of brooks or lakes under the same conditions.
RANGELEY LAKE TROUT.
Trout-rod and Tackle.
In the great Androscoggin Lakes of Maine, the trout, which are brook trout, grow to the largest size known anywhere. They have been caught weighing twelve pounds, and many claimed that they were lake trout, until the famous naturalist Agassiz decided that, although living in lakes, they were true brook trout. These immense trout have very thick bodies and cruel hooked jaws; but the guides can point out many contrasts between trout from different lakes, or even from different parts of the same lake. There are trout nearly as large in the rivers of the British Provinces, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Quebec, but these are usually lighter colored, and they are quite another variety, being known as sea trout, or Salmo trutta. All this adds to the interest of trout-fishing by inducing the angler to acquaint himself with what the Natural Histories have to tell him about the various kinds of trout. Then the differences in one kind teach him to be observant and excite a curiosity as to the habits of the trout. Here the Natural Histories will fail him. Only by following trout brooks and tempting the larger trout of lakes, can he properly study the ways and curious moods of this cunning, timid fish. And even then, if he be modest, he will often confess himself sadly puzzled; for the trout's wits are sometimes more than a match for the fisherman's. And this adds to the pleasure of trout-fishing; for if one had to deal with a fish which would bite at any bait, under any circumstances, and give up the fight as soon as hooked, the sport would soon grow very stupid. In trout-fishing, one will study the best conditions of wind, weather, and water, and learn how to approach one of the shyest of fish, how to delude one of the most wary, and how safely to land one of the pluckiest. To do this it is necessary to have reliable "tackle," a term which includes rod, reel, line, leaders, flies, and landing net. The rod must be so light that one can cast with it easily and persistently, and yet it must be strong enough to bend into all manner of curves without breaking, and to tire out large trout. If it is too stiff, the fisherman's arm will soon be wearied, and if it is too flexible or withy, it will not cast flies well, and it will not hold fish firmly if the angler needs to bring a strain upon them. In attempts to meet these requirements, fly rods have been made of split bamboo, ash and lance-ood, bethabara, greenheart, cedar, hickory, hornbeam, iron-wood, snake-wood, shadblow and perhaps twenty other woods, and there have even been experiments in making rods of thin steel tubes. The split bamboo rods are made of four or six triangular strips cut from the rind of Calcutta bamboo and carefully fitted and glued together. Sometimes the surface is rounded, but oftener it has six sides. These rods, when they are really good, are the best of all. Indeed, Americans may justly claim to make the finest rods in the world and also the finest lines. But I should not advise any of my readers to buy a split bamboo fly rod, because these rods are very expensive, they require very careful treatment, and if broken they must go back to the maker to be repaired. The fly rod which I recommend to the boys and girls of St. Nicholas is one with an ash butt, and the second joint and tip of lance-wood. It should be from ten feet to ten feet and a half in length, and should weigh about seven ounces and a half. Such a rod can be obtained from any reliable dealer in any large city. I emphasize reliable because there are fishing-tackle stores where one may get rods nice to look at, but worthless to use. Nearly all dealers keep what is called an "all around" rod, intended to be used, for either fly or bait fishing, but this, like most compromises is usually unsatisfactory. This, or something like it, will probably be shown you if you ask for a boy's rod, so that it is better to tell the dealer or rod-maker exactly what you want, and to accept nothing else. If he takes a pride in his work and has a reputation to sustain, he will interest himself in picking out a rod of sound, well-seasoned wood, evenly balanced, elastic, with a good action, and a peculiar "kick" in the second joint, which is of great service in casting a fly. If some one can help you in making your choice, so much the better. Then it will be well to attach a reel and line to the rod and try it in actual casting, if this is possible; and when the rod is bent, see that the bend is an even curve. The pleasure of fly-fishing depends upon the quality of the rod, and the choice should therefore be made deliberately and wisely. Some fishermen make their own rods, and there are dealers who supply materials for amateur rod-makers; but this is a difficult undertaking and can not be described here.[A] I should advise any boy to go to a professional maker for his first fly rod.
YOUNG ANGLERS.
The "enameled water-proof" lines are the best. These are braided from boiled silk, and prepared to resist the action of water, which will cause the decay of an ordinary line. Of the various sizes, which are distinguished by letters, that known as F is perhaps most desirable, although either E or F will answer the purpose. The line should be "level," not tapering, and at least twenty-five yards in length. This will be wound upon a "click" reel of equal capacity, preferably nickel-plated. But this is of less importance than the internal construction of the reel, for which you should have the maker's guarantee. Now come the flies. There are names enough to fill a directory, and a greater variety of colors than the woods show in autumn. A few flies like the "Montreal," "Professor," "Scarlet Ibis," "Coachman," and "the Hackles," are to be found in almost every angler's book. For the rest, it will be well to learn, from some experienced angler or intelligent dealer, the flies best suited to the particular waters which you intend to fish. At the Rangeley lakes, for example, you will find that large, gaudy flies are much used, like the "Parmachenee Belle," "Silver and Golden Doctor," and "Grizzly King," and there is one local fly called the "Katoodle Bug." In the Adirondacks, smaller flies of quieter colors are favored. For brook-fishing, very small flies of neutral tints are much used except when the water is very dark. A fly-book will be needed to contain flies and also leaders. The leader is a piece of "silk-worm gut," which should be about six feet in length. One end is fastened to the line, and the stretcher-fly is made fast at the other. One or two other flies, called droppers, are usually attached at intervals of two feet or more along the leader. Before making your choice, the leaders should be closely examined to see whether any part is frayed or cracked. They can be tested by a pull of four or five pounds on a spring balance. The leader is used as being less conspicuous than the line in the water, and, therefore, less likely to frighten away trout approaching the flies. Most leaders are dyed a misty bluish color which, it is thought, will escape even the keen eyes of the trout. A landing-net, the size and strength of which depend upon the fishing-ground, completes the list of tackle.
TROUT FLIES.
The next step is to learn how to cast a fly, and here practice and the advice of some experienced fly-fisherman will be worth more than printed instructions.
It is not necessary, however, to wait for summer nor for access to water, in order to practice casting. A housetop, a dooryard, or even the spacious floor of an old-fashioned barn, as the case may be, offers just as good a chance for practice as a lake or river. When the rod is jointed together, the reel attached, and the line passed through the rings and beyond the tip about the length of the rod, the learner is usually seized with a wild desire to flourish rod and line like a whip with a long snapper. This feeling must promptly be suppressed. Fly-casting is a very simple movement, and not a flourish. The elbow is kept down at the side, the forearm moving only a little, and most of the work is done by the wrist. Holding the rod by the "grip," the part of the butt wound with silk or rattan to assist the grasp, one finds that the reel, which is just below the "grip," aids in balancing the rod. The reel is underneath in casting. After hooking a fish, many anglers turn their rods so as to bring the reel to the upper side, thus letting the strain of the line come upon the rod itself instead of upon the rings. In holding the "grip," the thumb should be extended straight along the rod, as this gives an additional "purchase." For the first cast, take the end of the line in the left hand, and bring the rod upward and backward until the line is taut. As you release the line, the spring of the rod carries the line backward. This is the back cast. Then comes an instant's pause, while the line straightens itself out behind, and then, with a firm motion of the wrist, helped a little by the forearm, the rod is thrown forward, and the line flies easily out in front. Begin with a line once or once-and-a-half as long as the rod, and lengthen it out by degrees. The main points to be remembered are: to keep the elbow at the side, to train the wrist, to move the rod not too far forward or back, always to wait until the line is straight behind on the back cast, and to make sure that in this the line falls no lower than your head, a process which it will take time to accomplish. There is no more awkward fault than that of whipping a rod down to a level with the horizon before and behind, and swishing the flies through the air until some of them are snapped off.
When the learner becomes accustomed to handling his rod, he must try to perfect himself in two matters of great importance—accuracy and delicacy. Place a small piece of paper fifteen or twenty feet away, and aim at making the knot in the end of the line fall easily and quietly upon it. Your efforts will be aided if you will raise the point of the rod a trifle, just as the forward impulse of the line is spent, and the line itself is straightened in the air for an instant in front. This is a novel kind of target-shooting, but its usefulness will be realized when the angler finds it necessary to drop his flies so lightly just over the head of some particularly wary trout, that the fish, although too shy or lazy to move a yard, will be persuaded that some tempting natural flies have foolishly settled on the water just within reach of his jaws. By practice of this kind, which is an excellent form of light exercise in itself, any boy or girl can learn a very fascinating art. It is not necessary to make very long casts. At fly-casting tournaments in Central Park, casts have been made of about ninety feet, but in actual fishing a third of that distance is usually sufficient. Never cast more line than you can conveniently and safely handle.
CAPTURING TWO FISH AT ONCE,—OR "LANDING A DOUBLE."
And now that we are ready to go a-fishing, the question arises, "Where shall we go?" The cold, bitter weather common in early April is not favorable to fishermen or fish. When May sunshine brings the leaves out on the trees, and fields are green and skies are blue, then Long Island may well tempt any New York boy who has a holiday to spend in fly-fishing. Years ago, any Long Island water could be fished without question, but now nearly all the Long Island brooks and ponds are "preserved,"—that is, kept for personal use by clubs or private owners. A boy who has a friend or relative among the owners of these preserves, or can hire a fishing privilege, can enjoy trout-fishing within a journey of two or three hours from his New York home. Within a few hours' ride, also, are trout streams in the southern counties of New York State and in Pennsylvania, although the former are so often visited that the fish have not time to grow large. The New England boy finds trout brooks in western Connecticut, in northern Massachusetts, and in the Cape Cod region, in northern New Hampshire and Vermont, and especially in Maine. Once, almost every stream and lake in New England contained trout. But forests were cut down, and some of the streams dwindled until they went dry in summer. Saw-mills were built, the streams were dammed up so as to be impassable for trout, and the trout eggs were buried under sawdust. Manufactories have poisoned the water of some rivers and others have been literally "fished dry." The trout of any brook near a large New England town have a very poor chance of long life. All this is discouraging enough, but yet there are trout to be caught, as every New England boy knows.
The most famous fishing-places in the East are the Rangeley Lakes in Maine and the Adirondacks in New York. About the third week of May the ice goes out of the great chain of lakes forming the head-waters of the Androscoggin River in Maine. Then the red-shirted river-drivers come down with "drives" of logs, which dash through the sluiceways of immense dams between the different lakes. And while the brown pine trunks are still shooting through the dams, fishermen begin to gather from all parts of the country, for in the clear cold water of these lakes the trout, feeding upon myriads of minnows, grow to be the giants of their race. I can wish no better piscatorial fortune for the children of St. Nicholas than a visit to Maine with father or brother, and the capture of one of these large trout. I must confess, however, that the large trout are not to be depended upon; but there are small fish always to be caught in the little lakes and brooks of the region, and there are pleasant forest camps with cheerful fires blazing in great stone fireplaces. The host of one of these camps was for a long time a hunter and guide, and every winter he lectures before Boston schoolboys, dressed in his hunter's garb, and tells them about trapping and the adventures of life in the woods.
INTERIOR OF A FISHING-CAMP.
If one can continue further into the North-east, better fishing can be found in New Brunswick and Quebec than in Maine, although the trout of the Provinces are sea trout, a distinction which does not seem to me important. The trout of the Adirondacks are much smaller than those of Maine or New Brunswick, and now that the Adirondack country is overrun with visitors, one must go back some distance into the woods to find good sport. South of Pennsylvania, there is trout-fishing in the mountain streams of West Virginia and North Carolina. To the west, northern Michigan tempts the angler, and still further north are the large trout of the Nepigon river which flows into Lake Superior. The States along the Mississippi Valley are sadly deficient in trout, but a great deal can be done with black bass, as Mr. Maurice Thompson has told you. Trout abound all along the Rocky Mountains. There are the lusty five-pounders of the Snake River in Idaho, the rainbow trout of California, found also, I think, in Colorado, and the dusky fish of New Mexico and Arizona. I do not expect that many of St. Nicholas's readers will visit these remote fishing-places, but between the three corners of the continent in which I have caught trout—Quebec, Washington Territory, and Arizona—there are so many chances for trout-fishing, that very few need fail to enjoy this most delightful of outdoor sports.
The best month for fly-fishing is June, and the best weather a light southerly or southwesterly breeze and a slightly overcast sky. Morning or evening is the best time. The worst is the middle of an intensely hot, bright, still day. It is usually thought that a change in the weather makes trout more active. Very high or very low water is undesirable. Yet when all the conditions seem perfect, one may cast over a whole school of trout without inducing them to stir a fin; and on the other hand, when the weather is most unfavorable and when the fish are gorged with food, they will, sometimes, fairly hustle one another in their eagerness to get the flies. On one hot July noon, the air and water around my boat were alive with trout for half an hour, when they stopped rising as suddenly as they had begun, without any apparent reason in one case or the other. Within two forenoon hours, I once caught twenty-five pounds of trout at the mouth of a brook emptying into one of the Rangeley lakes. Early next morning, I was rowed to the same spot and found only one solitary trout. On another occasion, I landed a five-pound and a three-pound trout from a pool in a Canadian river, without unduly disturbing the water; but although the pool contained several other fish, including one estimated to weigh over five pounds, not another trout could be induced to look at any fly in my book. Trout are very fickle and changeable, and the ingenuity sometimes required to coax them to rise adds as much zest to the sport as the suspense and excitement of hooking and landing them.
A MOUNTAIN LAKE.
But when the trout does rise, what do you suppose he thinks? Does he really believe that the curious creature with a barbed tail hovering over his head is a natural fly? I doubt it. The flies ordinarily used would drive an entomologist to distraction. The great scarlet and white and yellow flies which have caused so many Rangeley lake trout to come to grief are, I fancy, unlike any living insect in that region, or anywhere else. The trout sees something moving on the water, and as experience has taught him that such fluttering objects are usually good to eat, his weakness for live food tempts him to pounce upon it without stopping to reason out the matter. But when he finds that this deceitful fly is entirely tasteless, he will drop it at once, unless the fisherman is prompt in "striking." This means a quick upward movement of the tip of the rod, a motion imparted, of course, at the butt, but communicated along rod and line. The movement "strikes" the hook into the fish. One can not be too quick in striking, but if too much force be used, the rod may be snapped at the second joint. Yet that is not the way in which rods are most frequently broken. If you have drawn in your flies so closely that you can not readily recover them, and your rod is pointing nearly straight upward, even a gentle attempt to strike a small fish is likely to break a rod. Once, I was fishing with a heavy rod from a raft which was drifting across a Canadian lake. The wind was so strong that I was obliged to cast with it, and then the raft rapidly drifted down upon my flies. A trout weighing not a quarter of a pound rose when my rod was nearly perpendicular, and the flies were close before me; instinctively I struck. The reward of my carelessness was that the rod, which would have landed a ten-pound fish, was cleanly broken into two pieces. Never draw the flies so near you that you have not safe and complete control of your rod, either for the back cast or for a strike.
The importance of the high back cast of which I have spoken, will be especially appreciated by St. Nicholas's boys and girls, for most of their trout-fishing will probably be done upon brooks where a low back cast would involve entanglement in grass or bushes. In brook-fishing it is usually necessary to use a comparatively short line, and one must learn to make under-hand casts,—that is, with the rod down to a horizontal level on either side, instead of being upright, something easily learned after one can cast properly over-hand. Of course my readers will see that they must keep themselves and their shadows out of the sight of the timid trout. When a fish is hooked, let him run out the reel if he is large enough, unless he makes for stumps or brush where the line may get entangled. Then as much of a strain must be brought to bear upon him as the tackle will withstand; and always reel in line when it is possible. The line should never be slack. If the trout will not rise at first, change your flies and try the old rule of looking closely at the insects which hover over the water and selecting a fly from your book that imitates those insects as nearly as possible. The best general rule is to use small dark flies in bright, clear water, and larger bright flies in dark or turbid water. I need hardly say that fish are not to be lifted out of the water with a fly-rod. Let the trout run and struggle until the strain of the rod tires him out so that he can be easily drawn within reach and lifted out with the landing-net.
So you see that in fly-fishing for trout you learn a very fascinating art, which can be practiced among the most delightful of outdoor surroundings in the pleasantest months of the year. You will learn much more than books can tell you about the habits and curious ways of a fish which the most experienced anglers have considered for hundreds of years as, next to the salmon, their most worthy game. You will learn patience, perseverance, and all manner of practical lessons on trout streams, including the tying of knots and the repairing of rods. And the sunshine, the fragrance of flowery meadows, and the cool breath of the woods will give you a health which can not be found indoors. But let me urge upon you to remember that the true sportsman is always generous in his treatment of the noble fish which he pursues. He will never catch trout out of season. He will never kill more trout than can be made use of, nor will he ever kill them by unfair means. And he will never catch tiny troutlings, too small to afford sport, lest he should exhaust the streams, but he will carefully restore to the water any trout which are not at least six inches long. St. Nicholas's fly-fishers who meet the gallant trout on fair and even terms will surely give the beautiful fish honorable treatment.
And when you go a-fishing, bearing these words in mind, may you be rewarded by baskets well filled with trout of noble size.
[ [A] "Fly Rods and Fly Tackle," by Mr. H. P. Wells, explains methods of making and repairing rods and other tackle, and gives much valuable instruction in fly-fishing.