It should be known that, contrary to the usually received opinion, salmon cannot surmount a fall of much over ten feet; this, probably, is the full extent of their powers. And in effecting this, much depends upon the depth of water at its foot; the deeper it is the higher they can leap. They do not take their tails in their mouths, according to the ancient theory, to enable them to spring higher, but rush with their utmost velocity from the bottom, and are carried by their momentum a considerable distance out of water. Such a leap or a struggle against strong rapids weakens them, and they must soon rest to recover strength for another ascent. They thus congregate below each fall, and often make many efforts before they overcome it. They usually move at night or early in the morning. A dam of fifteen or twenty feet will effectually exclude them from any stream, but may be rendered innocuous at small expense by placing below the wasteway boxes of heavy wood, with a fall of not over five feet from one to the other. A salmon leaps from the river to the first, from that to the next, and so on till he has overcome the barrier. A broad sluiceway leading at a moderate angle to the pool below, will probably answer as well.[11]
The fish, as they enter the rivers, may be deterred from entering, or all captured in nets spread entirely across the mouth, and when those that do pass have reached the spawning beds, they are peculiarly exposed to the cruel spear. At night, by this instrument, with the aid of flambeaux, hundreds may be killed and many more wounded and left to perish miserably. If they are to continue in reasonable numbers, nets must not be set close together, the spawning beds must be undisturbed, and the murderous spear utterly prohibited. With these precautions and a regulation concerning the sized mesh that is used, this valuable source of pleasure, health and profit may not only be retained but indefinitely augmented; without such care the day is not far off when “the places that knew them will know them no more,” when their bright sides will no longer gleam beneath the waves or glisten as they gambol in the sunlight, when the nets will cease to yield a return, when the fishermen, longing regretfully for their most valuable prize, will find their occupation gone, and honest and dishonest, fair fisherman and sneaking poacher, alike be overwhelmed in one common ruin. Surely we have too much good sense, too much public spirit, too much energy and determination to submit to such a calamity; let us unite, then, in repressing unseasonable and unlawful fishing, in preserving and protecting the fish, and in restoring rivers that have been exhausted.
In the salt water, salmon never take the fly, and rarely bait of any kind, although they feed on sand eels and small fish in addition to shell-fish; but as they advance into brackish or fresh water, they either miss their natural food and become hungry, or get accustomed to feeding on grasshoppers and insects, and are deceived by the artificial fly, and will at times take the bait.
When they leave the salt water, the sea-lice that have fastened to them fall off, frequently to be replaced by fresh-water parasites, and this is sometimes given as the reason for their leaving the sea so early in the year, although they do not spawn till the Fall. While spawning they are unfit to eat, and after the operation are utterly exhausted. In this condition, when returning to the sea, they are termed kelts, the male being distinguished as a kipper and the female as a baggit. As the spawning season approaches, a curious cartilaginous hook grows from the lower jaw, which is supposed to be a provision of nature to prevent an unfortunate termination to the many desperate contests between the males at that period.
The habits of salmon are by no means determined; in fact, little is known positively about them. It has been even suggested that grilse are a distinct species, although it is hardly doubted with us but they are young salmon. Their times of visiting the fresh water are subject to peculiar individual exceptions; in fact, it may be said there are two opinions among fishermen, and persons who have watched salmon for twenty and thirty years assert that some are ascending while others are descending. Izaak Walton says that salmon spawn in August, which is directly contrary to the views of other English writers, and certainly not in accordance with the practice of our fish. Others again say they return to the salt water in September, and reascend the rivers later in the Fall. The young in all stages have been disputed over, and called by divers names, such as pinks, smolts, parr, brandling, samlet, peal, grilse, until one hardly knows what sort of fish he really has captured. Every writer has his theory, and the following is mine; it may be true or not, but the statements of fact are.
Salmon are never found in our rivers except in three stages: First, a little fish much like a trout, but with a larger eye and richer colors; they have no blue spots, but have darker bands on their sides; they weigh from half an ounce to half a pound. Second, the grilse, which is precisely like a salmon, except that it weighs from two and a half to six pounds. Third, the salmon, which weighs from eight to eighty pounds. Salmon first appear in the fresh water about the 10th of June, and grilse a month later. The main run of the former is from June 15th to August 15th in New Brunswick, and from June 10th to July 20th in Canada. The explanation of this difference is simple: the Canadian fish are much the largest, averaging double the size of their more southern brethren, and as the waters fall during the hot months of Summer, they must ascend earlier than smaller fish, and before the spring freshets have entirely subsided, or they would never reach the high waters at all. Straggling fish, however, are running up at all seasons, early and late, and a few probably remain in the fresh water the entire year, or descend only when they are sickened by a lengthened residence in an unchanged element. Salmon do not spawn in Summer, but in Winter, commencing not earlier, and often later, than October; the fish that ascend last probably spawn last. Then they return to the sea; but not at once, some remaining under the ice through the Winter, others going immediately. My theory, therefore, is that the young fish, whether you
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call them fry, or pinks, or smolts, or peal, go to the sea usually a year after their birth, but with no invariable regularity, and will then average six ounces in weight, many undoubtedly waiting till the Fall, or eighteen months after birth; that they return the succeeding July grilse;[12] that the grilse spawn the following November, and after visiting the sea, reappear next Spring as salmon. The young fish are taken with the fly through the Summer in all the salmon rivers, and require a second glance to distinguish them from young trout, although they are very different, one decisive peculiarity being that their backs are arched or hogged, and another, as I have mentioned, that their eyes are large. The fry of trout—and recollect grown trout are not banded—have light sides, and are found usually in more quiet water. It would be well if sportsmen should call the fish in question respectively salmon fry, grilse, and salmon, and eschew all other fanciful names, as leading only to confusion.