ATLANTIC SALMON—(Salmo Salar.)
from out our waters. The willful, stupid obstinacy in building dams without fishways, in crowding the rivers with nets, and neglecting all measures for their protection, have annihilated the noblest of game fish. They are now only to be found in Maine, and to the northward of it. The rivers of Maine are no longer worth the angler’s attention, and if he would have good sport he must proceed to the wilds of New Brunswick or Lower Canada.
In the wild woods of those famed regions they abound, and there, amid the solitude of nature, in its primeval grandeur, the writer has cast the fly over thousands, has lured hundreds from their hidden depths, and seen myriads moving about in their romantic pools, or darting away when disturbed; has waited, casting patiently, for their appearance; has felt the vigor of their first rush; has seen them leap, maddened, high out of water; has experienced all the variations of hope, the exultation of success, and, alas! the agony of failure. He has known them to dart away resistlessly down some impassable rapid, and leap for joy as they broke his frail tackle, and he has seen them panting with the gaff in their sides and the dark blood streaming over their resplendent scales, as his quick-eyed assistant had secured them at the moment the hook was tearing out. Aye, he once had the good luck of having one that was thrown out of water by the blow, the hook tearing out at the same time, caught on the gaff ere he fell back into the watery grave of hope.
The glorious sport! Ye delvers after the ore of gold, hidden as it seems to be in boxes of silk or bales of cotton, in bits of paper or leaves of ledgers; ye weary crawlers through the streets of mammon, who think the world is bounded by the four walls of your ambition; ye who have been brought up to work, as though work were the aim of life instead of the means of its improvement; ye who have laid up a few hundred for some pet dissipation, a visit to Saratoga or Newport, or a fight with the tiger—that man-eater—and ye who must watch every day over your accumulated millions, lest a penny slip into a cranny and be lost, go to the woods, where you will be surrounded by the sombre trees, where the rocks will be your companions and the wind whisper and the stream prattle to you. There you will learn how little it takes to render man comfortable and happy, how but for his reckless passions and extravagant desires all might be satisfied and plenty crown the human race. There, where nature speaks to you in her beauty, in her grandeur, and occasionally in her stupendous power; where the wonders of the universe by day and night are ever present, like old friends; where there is naught but the thin air between the Maker and his beings, you may learn what will be more valuable some day than any treasure of gold or silver. Breathe the pure air, shake off every ill that flesh is heir to; add to your life, if you love it so well, a week for each day, and that a day of never wearying enjoyment. Take rod and gun, aspire to cast the line far and straight and light, feel the struggle of patience, perseverance, skill, resolution, with brute strength and cunning; know the pleasurable anxiety of the chase, the alternate hope and fear, and the final glory of success. Learn the woodsman’s art, the “gentle craft of venerie,” and wonder at the resources of the wilderness, and on your return thank me not, if you can. But that you may do it well, read the following prosy instructions carefully, for if they be not entertaining they be useful.
The rod for salmon fishing should be from sixteen to twenty feet long; one of sixteen, or even fifteen, if well made and elastic, will answer. It must be strong and stiff, but not too heavy, and the further it will cast the greater will be the success. Salmon are more wary than trout; if they see a horrible, ill-shapen being, like man, lashing at them with a long whip, they lie close to the bottom, and it is only by keeping well out of sight, and never disturbing or approaching the pool, that they can be tempted. A short rod, though it may be capable of casting the requisite distance, will not give sufficient command nor enable the angler to lift the fly with facility.
The fly must be cast straight, light, and as far as possible; it must be put exactly upon the right ripple, and must fall like a snow-flake; it should, if the water is still, be allowed to sink a few inches and then drawn up to and along the surface a foot or so, again allowed to sink, and so on till it is raised for another cast. It is not moved as rapidly, nor with precisely the same tremulous motion as in trout fishing. Often a long time passes before a fish, no matter how plenty they may be, will rise; and when he does come, it is as often to play with and slap at the fly as to take it. Nothing is more provokingly exciting than to have a magnificent fish rush again and again at your fly, leap over and around it, break near it or strike at it with his tail, without, however, showing the slightest desire to take it in his mouth.
A fish hooked foul, though he gives a great deal of trouble, and often breaks the tackle, does not afford half the legitimate sport of one that has the hook in the mouth.
When fish are playing thus, and it is fully determined that they will not take the allurement presented them, no matter how attractive, it becomes necessary to substitute another, and continue so doing till their dainty palates are satisfied.
When they finally take hold, have a care for their first rush; the pain, if pain they feel, or astonishment, drives them wild, and they dash and fling themselves about, leap out of water, and carry on generally in a manner to surprise weak nerves. Finding their efforts to escape vain, they will dart down the nearest rapids, and here they must be followed if the water is too shallow for the canoe, by the angler, with the agility of the antelope. He must have feet, hands, and eyes for everything. The fish must be guided through the safest current, the line kept clear of rocks, while the angler must pursue his course through pools and over ledges and bowlders, slippery with the water, and requiring the sureness of foot of the chamois. On, on he must go, regardless of falls or bruises, his reel making sweet music to the uncoiling line, keeping within sight of his prey till the latter reaches the next pool or resting-place. After an hour’s struggle in this, he may take down another rapid in the same vigorous style. In these descents the angler will find his gaff, if shod with iron, a great convenience in steadying his steps, and heavy shoes with iron nails will in a measure prevent his slipping and will obviate stone bruises, although they are apt to break the delicate knees of the canoe, and should be removed before getting into one, and moccasins or slippers substituted. There is a well authenticated story of one fish that was struck at six o’clock in the evening, followed down through three rapids, and finally lost at half-past ten o’clock that evening.