Recent debates in the House of Commons on the English and Scottish Salmon Fisheries Bills brought out very distinctly the worst phase of the salmon question—viz. the prevalence of stake and bag nets. These machines have exercised a baneful influence on the fisheries, and have in numerous instances intercepted about one-half of the salmon of particular rivers, before they could reach their own waters. These nets are erected in the tideways, not far from the shore, and as the fish are coasting along towards their own particular spawning-ground, they are intercepted either in the chambers of the bag-net, or in the meshes of the stake-net. It is said, too, that fish taken in the tidal estuaries are in far finer condition than those caught in the fresh-water division of the large salmon rivers; hence they are in greater demand, and bring a slightly better price. There is no consideration among tacksmen of river fishings, or proprietors of bag or stake nets, for the preservation of the fish; it seems to be a rule with these gentlemen to kill all they can. It is obvious that, if the upper proprietors of the waters were to act in the same spirit, and kill all the salmon that reached the breeding-grounds, that fine fish, not unaptly called the “venison of the waters,” would very speedily become extinct.
As may be known to most of my readers, the chief British salmon streams, so far at least as productiveness is concerned, are the Tay, the Tweed, the Spey, and the Esk. I have not space in which to sketch the whole of these rivers, but I desire, on behalf of English readers particularly, to say a few words about two of our Scottish salmon streams; and I select the Tay and the Spey.
The Tay is equal to a basin of 2250 square miles, and it discharges, after a run of about 150 miles, a greater volume of water than any other Scottish river. “As ascertained by Dr. Anderson, the quantity which is carried forward per second opposite the city of Perth averages no less than 3640 cubic feet.” The main river and its affluents, and their varied tributaries, afford splendid breeding-ground for the salmon. As an instance we may take the Earn. It flows from Loch Earn in the far west of Perthshire, and is, when it leaves the lake, a considerable river, and over the greater part of its course its current is very rapid. A slight drawback to its capabilities as a fish-breeding river is the fact of its sometimes overflowing its banks; but its tributaries afford plenty of excellent ground for salmon-breeding. Indeed, on all the tributaries of the Tay there is ample accommodation for the fish. I have in my mind’s eye some excellent salmon-beds near Airlie Castle, on the Isla. The banks of the river are overhung by foliage, and the salmon sport industriously in the deep pools, resorting to the gravel at the proper season in order to dig beds in which to deposit their eggs, and when in due time these are vivified and grow from the fry to the parr state, I have seen the youthful “natives” catching them in scores.
The Tay deserves special honour, for it must rank as the king of Scottish rivers, receiving as it does the tribute of so many streams, and running its course through such a variety of fine scenery. Loch Tay is generally accounted the source of this river, but if it be considered that the loch is chiefly fed by the river Dochart, the source of this latter river is actually the fountain-head of the Tay. The Dochart rises in the extreme west of Perthshire, and, after striking the base of the “mighty Ben More” and the Dochart Hills, falls into Loch Tay at the village of Killin, before reaching which place it assumes the dimensions of a considerable river. There is fine angling to be had in the vicinity of Killin; indeed, the salmon rod-fisheries there are of some value, and trout can be taken in great plenty both in the Dochart and the Lochay. Loch Tay contains abundance of fish, and, as that sheet of water is of considerable size, there is ample room to ply the angle, either for salmon, trout, or charr. The loch is about sixteen miles in length, and is overshadowed on the north by Ben Lawers—one of the loftiest of our Scottish mountains. The river Tay issues from the loch within a mile of Taymouth Castle, one of the fine seats of the noble family of Breadalbane; and, after flowing eastward for a few miles, its waters are augmented by those of the Lyon, whose source is about twenty-six miles distant from its junction with the Tay. Passing over several minor streams and proceeding eastwards, the next important tributary of the Tay is the Tummel, the junction taking place at the ancient and once famous burgh of Logierait. This river, which is the largest tributary of the Tay, is the outlet of Loch Rannoch, situated in the extreme north-west of Perthshire. The loch is well stocked with trout, and large specimens of the Salmo ferox are frequently caught; but the true salmon (Salmo salar) is not found either in Loch Rannoch or Loch Tummel, their ascent being checked by the Falls of Tummel. Below the falls, however, there are several salmon-fisheries, but they are not very productive. The Tay, after receiving the waters of the Tummel and Garry at Logierait, flows onward through beautiful scenery till it reaches Dunkeld, where it receives the tributary stream of the Braan, which has for its source a small sheet of water named Loch Freuchie, situated in Glen Quoich. The scenery around the junction of the Braan and Tay is hallowed by numberless associations of bygone times. Passing beneath the noble arches of Dunkeld Bridge, the Tay flows eastward till it is joined by the Isla, when it again takes a southerly direction until it reaches Perth. On its way thither it receives the tribute of the Almond, the Shochie, and the Ordie. The Isla is a large and important stream, draining as it does a considerable extent of country, and lending its aid both to miller and manufacturer. The Almond is the next river in importance, but a tradition connected with it is better known than the river itself. On Lynedoch Braes, which are near the foot of the stream, dwelt the heroines of the poetic legend of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, in the house which they “biggit” with their own hands, and “theekit ower wi’ rashes.” The Shochie and Ordie cannot claim the name of rivers, but they are celebrated as being named in a prophecy attributed to Thomas the Rhymer:—
“Says the Shochie to the Ordie
Where shall we meet?
At the cross of Perth,
When a’ men are asleep.”
The Isla, Almond, and the two rivers last named, in common with all the tributaries of the Tay, afford excellent sport to the angler. The country bordering the banks of this portion of the Tay is a mixture of pastoral and agricultural. Rippling past the Stormontfield breeding-ponds, now a feature of the river, and the palace of Scone, the Tay speedily reaches the links of Perth’s fair city; and after being joined by the Earn, also an excellent salmon stream, it widens into a broad estuary, and, speedily sweeping past the manufacturing town of Dundee, is lost in the German Ocean.
