Salmonia; Or, Days of Fly Fishing / In a series of conversations. With some account of the habits of fishes belonging to the genus Salmo

by Sir Humphry Davy

Orn.—And why?

Hal.—Because wisdom and order are found in all his works, and the parts of animals are always in harmony with each other, and always adapted to certain ends consistent with the analogy of nature; and a human head, human hands, and human mammæ, are wholly inconsistent with a fish’s tail. The human head is adapted for an erect posture, and in such a posture an animal with a fish’s tail could not swim; and a creature with lungs must be on the surface several times in a day—and the sea is an inconvenient breathing place; and hands are instruments of manufacture—and the depths of the ocean are little fitted for fabricating that mirror which our old prints gave to the mermaid. Such an animal, if created, could not long exist; and, with scarcely any locomotive powers, would be the prey of other fishes, formed in a manner more suited to their element. I have seen a most absurd fabrication of a mermaid, exposed as a show in London, said to have been found in the Chinese seas, and bought for a large sum of money. The head and bust of two different apes were fastened to the lower part of a kipper salmon, which had the fleshy fin, and all the distinct characters, of the salmo salar.

Orn.—And yet there were people who believed this to be a real animal.

Hal.—It was insisted on, to prove the truth of the Caithness story. But what is there which people will not believe?

Poiet.—In listening to your conversation we have forgotten our angling, and have lost some moments of fine cloudy weather.

Hal.—I thought you were tired of catching trouts and graylings, and I therefore did not urge you to continue your fly-fishing; and this part of the river does not contain so many grayling as the pools above—but there are good trout, and it is possible there may be huchos. Let me recommend to you to put on minnow tackle—that tackle with the five small hooks; and, as we have minnows and bleaks, you may perhaps hook trout, or even huchos; and in half an hour our fish dinner at the inn will be ready. I shall return there, to see that all is right, and shall expect you when you have finished your fishing.

[They all meet in the dining-room of the inn.]

Hal.—Well, what sort of sport have you had since I left you?

Poiet.—We have each caught a trout and two large chubs, and have had two or three runs besides—but we saw no huchos; and though several large grayling rose in one of the streams, and we tried to catch them by spinning the minnow in every possible way, yet they took no notice of our bait.

Hal.—This is usually the case. I have heard of anglers who have taken grayling with minnows, but it is a rare occurrence, and never happened to me. Your dinner, I dare say, is now ready; and you know it is a dinner entirely of the genus salmo, with vegetables and fruit. You have hucho from the Traun, and char from Aussee, and trout from the Traun See, that were brought alive to the inn, and have only just been killed and crimped, and are now boiling in salt and water; and you have likewise grayling and laverets from the Traun See, which are equally fresh, and will be fried.