The Game Fish, of the Northern States and British Provinces / With an account of the salmon and sea-trout fishing of Canada and New Brunswick, together with simple directions for tying artificial flies, etc., etc.

by Robert Barnwell Roosevelt

The pool lay close beside a little island covered with alders, and by crawling cautiously I kept out of sight, and reaching the head of the island, cast carefully and lightly round it into the pool. The line went out straight the full length, the fly fell like a snow-flake on the water, there was an angry rush, a mighty splash, a quick taughtening of the line, and an enormous fish was fastened to my frail tackle. In his astonishment he fortunately darted up stream, and by skillful management was led round into the other channel, where, after many a struggle and desperate effort to escape, baffled only by prudence and care exerted through a long but exciting half hour, I landed him by walking into the water waist deep, and slipping the net under him. As for leading him to shore, my rod, already bent double would not bear the strain. He was a dark-backed, yellow-sided river fish, and weighed four pounds and a quarter. He was our champion prize, and remained so to the end. The water not having been disturbed, I made another cast, and was rewarded by another fish that weighed four pounds. A brace of beauties, fit to set before a king. The second one, however, so fought and flounced, and kicked and slapped about in the pool, in spite of all my persuasive efforts to induce him to leave it, that the rest grew suspicious, and refused the most seductive baits. My friend looked the least little bit envious when I rejoined him, and mentioned his having previously taken a sea trout at the Mingan that weighed nine pounds. I smiled, of course respectfully. We returned to the lake, having taken in all fifteen fish averaging three pounds, and leaving the canoe on the beach, wended our way through the woods back to our sylvan home, where Pierre received us with a redoubtable supper. Insatiable, however, I that evening took eight, and next morning three, from our preserve, as we called the pool in front of the tent.

As we intended to return to the lake, and might perhaps spear a pickerel, Joe made an égog, which appears to be the Indian name for fish-spear, the Canadians having not only adopted the word, but coined from it a French verb, égogger, to spear. Armed with it, and provided with make-shift tenting materials, we hastened to the lake, and launching our canoe,, tried its virtues upon the pickerel. The latter, however, were so scarce, that we rigged up the more effectual spinning tackle, and took a pickerel and a mascallonge of about twelve pounds each, and struck another of the latter very large, weighing, as well as could be guessed, from his passing close to the boat, about forty pounds. That night, provided with flambeaux, we went out for the purpose of again trying to spear pickerel; but, passing by the outlet of the pond, were so attracted by the numerous salmon, we could get no further.

It was a romantic sight; the canoe, lit up by the blazing flambeau, that was fastened, high above our heads, to a pole fixed in the bow, and by its glare made the surrounding darkness the more impenetrable; the silence of the night was unbroken, except by the dip of the paddle; and calmness of the water unruffled, through which the bewildered salmon lazily floated, following us about, coming so close that we could touch them with our hands, and occasionally jumping frantically into the air, utterly out of their wits and at the mercy of any poacher. Walton was excited, myself enthusiastic, but Joe was frantic; “Egoggez donc! égoggez donc!” he shouted, wildly pushing at the fish with his paddle, and almost ready to jump out of the boat. My friend held the spear in hand—he was a splendid spearsman, and could have filled the boat with salmon; but it was illegal as well as dishonorable to catch them in that manner—he wavered but a moment, and then with a sigh lay down the spear and took up his paddle, the greatest example of self-command and honest sportsmanship I ever knew. General Washington, when he refused to be king, was no greater. My friend was not rewarded if he did not sleep happier for it that night in the old cabin on the shore of Lake la Val; and if the falling pipe of the rotting stove that nearly crushed his head had killed him, he would have died virtuous, respected and without reproach.

Oh, that I had the pen of Julius Cæsar, Homer, Shakspeare, or even Byron, that I might write an ode to sapin, the balsam fir-tree! Tree of the weary woodsman, tree of the luxurious sportsman, tree of all men whom the drowsy god catches in the woods and compels to his embraces! A bed of thy leaves is softer than one of eider-down, and far more comfortable. A prince might sleep on thee and dream he was in paradise. Thou preservest us from colds, from rheumatism, and the many ills that flow from the evil humors of the cold ground. Thy leaves, growing in one direction from the stem, will lie flat, and may be piled to any depth—a foot of luxury, as in our permanent camp—and make a couch that combines the softness of the feather-bed with the firmness of the mattress, and an elasticity purely thy own. To thee, and to thy mate the hemlock, and thy associate the white birch, I now, far from thee, waft, in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, my love. Go on, increase and wax great; may often the one support me on the land, the other on the water!

When the next morning’s sun had once more brought round my birthday, the thirty-first that had ever dawned, we commemorated the fact by undertaking to descend the La Val from the outlet to our home; a roundabout journey of some fifteen miles, in lieu of the portage of five. It was to be a final test of the depth of the water, as the course lay over bad rapids and falls, and we entered upon the journey with great uncertainty. Packing our temporary bedding in a water-proof blanket, our party embarked and sped gaily along for the first mile or two, but soon found the bed of the stream one mass of huge rocks, over which the canoe had to be driven with sheer force, and which tore and strained the fragile bark till it leaked terribly.

During this day our progress was necessarily slow and laborious, and to relieve ourselves we fished continually. The trout rose beautifully—in fact, in one pool they were so thick, sweeping round in shoals, that we grew surfeited, and left it for a spot where they were less plenty. Still it required a long line and light fly to cull the largest—which were the ones we sought—and skill and patience to land them. We might have taken hundreds had the time permitted, or our canoe been in condition to carry them; but every strain had increased the leak till we could no longer keep it down by bailing, and had to land from time to time to turn the water out. In fact, it was a wet time altogether; there was a drizzling rain, the canoe was three inches deep with water, we had both been wading part of the day, and had so arranged our water-proof blanket that it projected beyond the temporary tent, and catching all the water that drained off, would not permit it to soak through, but collected a miniature Lake la Val in the middle of our bed. I being the heaviest, had the most of it; but by the aid of a blazing fire, I slept warm and comfortable till the morning air struck me, when the time came to rise, and sent a shiver to my very bones, giving me at first horrible visions of consumption, night-sweats and early death. Our tally of fish taken during the day amounted to fifty-three, weighing nearly two hundred pounds, and I had captured the greatest weight as yet taken at one cast, landing two fish, one of which weighed two and the other three pounds and a half. A handsome present the river gods made me for my birthday!

The next day, after an hour had been spent in vainly trying to attract the salmon, our journey was continued to the camp, the river as we descended proving worse, the rocks higher, the rapids fiercer, the water lower, our canoe frailer, till it came almost to dragging the latter over the bed of a current instead of floating comfortably along its surface. All hope of ascending to the head-waters was extinct, the rapids above the lake we knew must be worse than those below, and the latter were totally impassable for a loaded canoe. In our despair, we fished steadily at every breathing spell, and might have taken unlimited numbers, for they rose gloriously.

While walking unconsciously along, separated from my companions, I was fairly startled at observing what at first glance seemed to be a female figure seated on the opposite side of the stream beneath the bank. The impression was only dissipated by a close inspection. The rains had scooped out of the bank a dark niche, the edges of which were ornamented with vines and moss and in it was seated a figure of clay, worn to an astonishing likeness of a woman with a gipsy bonnet on her head. She appeared to be seated, and her bonnet, its strings and her dress, were accurately imitated by the curling white birch bark. The color of her face seemed dark brunette, set off by the birch bonnet, that was brought out in strong relief by the heavy shadow of the background. Altogether, it was a startling apparition, and conjured up to my eyes the wondrous sights of the times of elfin power, when my spectre would have made a most perfect wood nymph.

Whether my elf gave me good luck or not, it is impossible to say, but we caught thirty-seven magnificent fish, and after a hard day’s work, during which we had toiled at the canoe and waded most of the way, the camp was no unwelcome sight. It required Pierre’s best culinary efforts to restore our spirits, and soothe our disappointment at being unable to effect a further ascent, in which our worst forebodings were confirmed by Jermain, an additional guide who had followed us, and who reported from his Indian friends that the upper stream was impassable, the water being a foot lower than was ever known before. With sad hearts, therefore, the council of war determined that advance was hopeless, and retreat inevitable; even our splendid sport could not console us.

It had been drizzling all day, and the next morning we devoted to a general drying of wet articles—the camp looked like a grand clothes washing establishment, with lines stretched from tree to tree round a big fire, and hung with clothes. I took some seven trout for dinner, but otherwise the fish had a rest until the morrow, which was to be our last on the river, when we captured twenty-eight, a few of which, however, did not exceed a pound and a half in weight.