Wanton injury to public property, in game, should be punished precisely as similar injury to public property in grounds or buildings, by incarcerating the offender in prison; for of the two, the latter is less injurious in its ultimate results. A building may be replaced, but who can restore life to the fish that bears a thousand undeveloped young in its bosom, or can give back to the starving fawn the mother that has been slain at its side? Mere pecuniary fines are an insufficient punishment; the poaching criminal is the poorest, as he is the meanest, of offenders, and laughs at any attempt to collect penalties that are not enforced by imprisonment; while the wealthy cockney is willing to run the risk of fine if he can, by taking the advantage of honest sportsmen, have the chance of boasting of his wonderful prowess and success. A few months in jail would cure the recklessness of the former and cool the ardor of the latter.
A still more murderous proceeding, so infamous that it is rare even with professional poachers, is to cast poison into the water, thus slaying, by one fell process, large and small, young and old. Condemnation of such a practice is unnecessary; and were it otherwise, fit language could hardly be found to depict its enormity.
By the introduction of unsuitable fish much injury is occasioned, more frequently through ignorance than wilfulness. Perch placed in a sluggish trout pond, like many of those on Long Island, will devour the young fry, and soon diminish the yield; and pickerel, which are especial pets of our farmers, although nearly worthless for food or sport, have devastated some of the best ponds in the country. The former are devotedly fond of minnows or small fish of any kind, and such bold biters as to give rise, in England, to the story of a country gentleman who enticed an ardent angler to his house by stocking one of his ponds with several dozen perch, all but one of which the visitor captured on the day after his arrival, before breakfast. The pickerel is exceedingly voracious, and also right fond of his smaller fellow fish for dinner.
To meet these cases the ponds must be drawn off, as neither perch nor pickerel remain in running water, and the waters must be re-stocked. In fact, wherever, from any cause, the drain is greater than the supply, the deficiency must be made good by artificial means.
By these means can the seductive little beauties, whether of the feathered, furred, or scaly tribe, that allure us to the great woods, the pleasant meadows, or the sparkling brooks, be preserved through endless time in undiminished abundance, furnishing the incentive that leads us away from our dull books or wearying cares, the crowded streets, the congregations of eager men, the trials and excitements of business, to gentle communings with the hills and skies, to contemplative musings beneath the leafy forests, or by the noisy water-falls, strengthening our nerves, renewing our hold of life, and elevating our moral nature.
FLY-MAKING.
Before making an artificial fly, it is essential to ascertain and select the best materials, and the necessary implements for the purpose. In the Game Fish of North America the author has explained the simplest and easiest mode of tying a fly, and if there be any person who has not read that work he should procure it at once. The instructions there contained must be first mastered before the following are attempted, lest discouragement should result; and no one that does not desire great accuracy and finish need waste the time and labor of understanding and executing the ensuing directions. There are a few persons who wish to tie a fly handsomely; this chapter is written for them. The fish probably care little whether the fly is made at Conroy’s establishment, of the finest materials and from the most approved patterns, or by some unknown German wholesale dealer, of any chance feathers.
Remember, however, that he who strives not after perfection never attains mediocrity, and the improvement of himself is one half of the angler’s pleasure. If we are content with an ungainly fly, we will be satisfied with inferiority of rod and tackle; and although the fish may not see the difference, the angler may become, from neglecting one point, slovenly in all. A well-made fly is a beautiful object, an ill-made one an eye-sore and annoyance; and it is a great satisfaction both to exhibit and examine a well-filled book of handsomely tied flies.