Winter on the Great Lakes, Stripping Lake-Trout.
Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries.
Winter Work on Inland Streams, Planting Trout Fry in Ice-Covered Rivers.
Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries.
"I found that out," answered Colin, "when I was working with Mr. Collier. He was always saying that things were 'so much worth while,' and when he started to explain them, they certainly were! It's just like this, I've only seen a little bit of this inland water work, but you handle other species beside whitefish in this work on the Great Lakes, don't you?"
"Yes," was the culturist's reply; "lake trout and pike perch among others. One station alone has handled seventy-one million trout eggs in a season. But the pike perch is a more difficult fish to propagate artificially, though nearly half a million eggs were distributed last year. We gave Canada six million pike perch fry. There's no wasted energy in the Bureau of Fisheries, it's practical all the way through, and you're learn
ing to see it from the right angle—doing the work and seeing the results."
It was this personal contact with the fish-culture work, this direct demonstration of the money value to the country of scientific knowledge, which became Colin's stimulus. His college-mates outdistanced him in many studies, for the boy was not at heart of a scholarly type, but in his scientific work he was far in advance of them all. Seeing his interest and his perseverance, several of the professors and instructors in the scientific department took a liking to Colin, and the lad was sure to be found on every kind of field expedition for which he was eligible. He was quite an athlete, too, but he settled down to swimming as his share in the athletic work of the university. Already quite at home in the water, he worked at improving his stroke with such energy, and was in the tank so much, that before the end of his freshman year, he was by long odds the best swimmer in the college. With his devotion to fish and his prowess in the water, it was a common saying that "Dare's growing fins!" and the college paper took to calling him "Fins," a nickname which stuck to him ever after.
As he had intimated to his father long before,