I can understand it, for, though far be it from me to compare any weariness or sorrow of mine with theirs, I have known that there was no better way in which I could find rest.
I have written for lovers of the gentle art, and if this which I have written fall into other hands, let him who reads understand that it is not for him. We who go a-fishing are a peculiar people. Like other men and women in many respects, we are like one another, and like no others, in other respects. We understand each other’s thoughts by an intuition of which you know nothing. So closely are we alike in some regards, so different from the rest of the world in these respects, and so important are these characteristics of mind and of thought, that I sometimes think no man but one of us can properly understand the mind of Peter, or appreciate the glorious visions of the son of Zebedee.
FROM “GAME FISH OF THE NORTH.”
By R. B. Roosevelt.
There are innumerable rules applicable to trout fishing, and innumerable exceptions to each; neither man nor fish is infallible. A change of weather is always desirable; if it has been-clear, a rainy day is favorable; if cold, a warm one; if the wind has been north, a southerly one is advantageous; a zephyr if it has been blowing a tornado. Generally, in early spring, amid the fading snows and blasts of winter, a warm day is very desirable; later, in the heats of summer, a cold, windy day will insure success. Dead calm is dangerous, although many trout are taken in water as still, clear and transparent as the heavens above. The first rule is never to give up; there is hardly a day but at some hour, if there be trout, they will rise, and steady, patient industry disciplines the mind and invigorates the muscles. A southerly, especially a south-easterly wind, has a singular tendency to darken the surface, and in clear, fine waters is particularly advantageous; a south-wester comes next in order; a north-easter, in which, by-the-by, occasionally there is great success, is the next; and a north-wester is the worst and dearest of all. Give me wind on any terms, a southerly wind, if I can have it; but give me wind. It is not known what quality of wind darkens the water; it may be a haziness produced in the atmosphere, although with a cloudy sky the water is often too transparent; it may be the peculiar character of the waves, short and broken, as contra-distinguished from long and rolling; but the fact is entitled to reliance.
Slight changes will often affect the fish. On one day in June, in the writer’s experience, after having no luck until eleven o’clock, the trout suddenly commenced rising, and kept on without cessation, scarcely giving time to cast, till two, when they as suddenly stopped. There was no observable change in the weather, except the advent of a slight haze, the wind remaining precisely the same. I was much disappointed, not having half fished the ground, and being prevented, by the numbers that were taken, from casting over some of the largest fish that broke. As it was I caught seventy trout in what are ordinarily considered the worst hours of the day. But in this particular, also, the same rules apply as to the warmth of the weather. In early spring it is useless to be up with the lark, even supposing such a bird exists; no fish will break water till the sun has warmed the air; but in summer, the dawn should blush to find the sportsman napping. In fact, trout will not rise well unless the air is warmer than the water. They do not like to risk taking cold by exposing themselves to a sudden draught.
There is a very absurd impression that trout will not take the fly early in the season; this is entirely unfounded. As soon as the ice disappears they will be found gambolling in the salt-water streams, and leaping readily at the fly. At such times, on lucky days, immense numbers are taken. In March they have run up the sluice-ways and are in the lower ponds, lying sullenly in the deepest water; then is the Cowdung, politely called the Dark Cinnamon, the most attractive fly. In April, May and June they are scattered, and entrapped by the Hackles, Professor, Ibis, and all the medium-sized flies. In July and August they have sought the head-waters of navigation, the cool spring brooks, and hide around the weeds and water-cresses, whence the midges alone can tempt them.
Any flies will catch fish, cast in any manner, if the fish are plenty and in humor to be caught. A few feathers torn from the nearest and least suspicious chicken, and tied on an ordinary hook with a piece of thread, will constitute a fly in the imagination of a trout, provided he follows, as he sometimes appears to do, the advice of young folks—shuts his eyes and opens his mouth. I cannot recommend such tackle, being convinced the most skilfully made is the best; but I do advise simplicity of color.