(Morone interrupta)
The yellow-bass was first described by Dr. Theodore Gill in 1860. His type specimens were from the lower Mississippi River in the vicinity of St. Louis and New Orleans. He named it interrupta, in allusion to the broken or "interrupted" lines along its sides. It is also known as brassy-bass. It belongs to the same genus as the white-perch of the East Coast. It is found only in the lower Mississippi River and its tributaries, sometimes extending its range a short distance up the Ohio River.
The yellow-bass might be called a cousin of the white-bass, though it belongs to a different genus. It takes the place of that fish in the lower Mississippi Valley. Compared with the white-bass it has a somewhat longer head, with a body not quite so deep; otherwise the general shape is much the same. The mouth is a little larger, though the snout does not project quite so much, and the profile of the head is straighter, and it has a larger eye. The posterior border of the cheek-bone is finely serrated.
The general color is brassy or yellowish, darker on the back and lighter on the belly. There are about half a dozen very distinct and black longitudinal lines along the sides, the lower ones broken or "interrupted," the posterior portions dropping below the anterior, like a "fault" in a stratum of rocks.
It is fond of the deeper pools in the rivers and clearwater bayous, and the foot of rapids and riffles. It is partial to the same character of food as the white-bass, small minnows constituting the greater part. It likewise spawns in the spring, and grows to a pound or two in weight, sometimes reaching three pounds. It is an excellent food-fish.
I have had good sport with the yellow-bass on St. Francis River in Arkansas, and at the head of the Yazoo Pass, in Mississippi, with the same tackle and by similar methods as recommended for the white-bass on a prior page. As with the two black-basses and the two crappies, the white-bass and yellow-bass having similar habits and kindred tastes, the same tackle and the same modes of angling are as well suited for one as for the other. This will apply to both fly-fishing and bait-fishing.
I was once, one autumn, with a party on a river steam yacht on the lower Mississippi when geese, ducks, deer, and turkeys were more plentiful than they are now. Up the St. Francis River, in the "sunk lands" of Arkansas, the yacht was moored at Cow Bayou, near a steep clay bluff, on the top of which was a dilapidated tent occupied by a young man and his wife, who were building a shanty boat in which to float down to sunnier climes for the winter, as the man was "nigh gone" with consumption. One morning I was out early fishing for yellow-bass after a rainy night. As I was landing a fish I saw the woman at the top of the bluff, looking for a way down to the yacht. She was quite a fresh and comely-looking woman, too. She started down very carefully, for the wet clay was quite slippery. I became interested to see how she would succeed. Suddenly her bare feet slipped from under her, and she came down with a rush, her one garment, as I soon discovered, an old calico gown, slipping back over her head, disclosing her nude form, which appeared very white in contrast to the red clay. Then I looked the other way just as she flopped over from a prone to a supine position. When she reached the river side she looked like a sculptor's model in clay. She quietly adjusted her gown as if nothing unusual had occurred, and asked: "Has you-uns got any matches? We-uns' matches all got wet in the drizzle last night, and I want to cook my old man's breakfus." I pulled ashore and handed her my matchbox, and scarcely knowing what to say, I remarked. "You had better change your dress before you cook breakfast." She replied, "I hain't got another one."
While the boys were eating their breakfast of fried fish, deer steak, and broiled duck, I related the "toboggan" episode, and mentioned the "one frock." When the meal was concluded the boys overhauled their belongings and chipped in several pairs of slippers, long woollen stockings, underclothing, and blankets, and the "skipper" threw in some calico and muslin from the yacht's stores. These were made into bundles and carried to the top of the bluff by a more circuitous route. Proceeding to the tent they deposited their offerings, together with some ducks and venison. The man and woman were overcome with gratitude, but the boys said they were glad to get rid of the stuff. The skipper had taken his camera along to get a snap-shot at the tent and its occupants, which being made known to them the woman said. "Wait a minnit!" She went into the tent, but immediately reappeared wearing a large sun-bonnet, in which she was "took" with her "old man." I have often wondered since why she put on that sun-bonnet. My excuse for this digression may be found in the memorable words of George Dawson, "It is not all of fishing to fish."