Merry in the greenwood is the note of horn and hound,
And dull must be the heart of him that leaps not to their sound;
Merry from the stubble whirrs the partridge on her wing,
And blithely doth the hare from her shady cover spring;
But merrier than horn or hound, or stubble's rapid pride,
Is the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Our art can tell the insect tribe that every month doth bring,
And with a curious wile we know to mock its gauzy wing;
We know what breeze will bid the trout through the curling waters leap,
And we can surely win him from shallow or from deep;
For every cunning fish can we a cunning bait provide,
In the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Where may we find the music like the music of the stream?
What diamond like the glances of its ever-changing gleam?
What couch so soft as mossy banks, where through the noontide hours
Our dreamy heads are pillowed on a hundred simple flowers?
While through the crystal stream beneath we mark the fishes glide,
To the sport that we court by the gentle river side?
For as the lark with upland voice the early sun doth greet,
And the nightingale from shadowy boughs her vesper hymn repeat;
For as the pattering shower on the meadow doth descend,
And far as the flitting clouds with the sudden sunbeams blend;
All beauty, joy and harmony, from morn to eventide,
Bless the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Well, here we are once more at the charming little village of Shawbury. How often, both as a boy and a man, have I wandered by the banks of the river Roden. What changes have taken place since my early rambles! Long familiar forms, companions in my fishing expeditions, have vanished; the mind fondly cherishes their memory, and recalls past hours of cheerful intercourse. We will put up the horse and carriage at the Elephant and Castle Inn and stroll away to the river.
Ah! here is a capital place. Now, Master Willy, there is no tree to interfere with your throw, so cast in just near that spot, quietly, carefully, anxiously; if there is a fish there he cannot resist your green drake. I recommend him the artificial before the fat natural fly. As Christopher North says—"Devouring ephemerals! Can you not suffer the poor insects to sport out their day? They must be insipid eating—but here are some savoury exceedingly ... they carry sauce piquante in their tails. Do try the taste of this bobber—but any of the three you please." There, hold fast, Willy, for that's a good one. Bring him up carefully to the side; hold your rod erect; play him a little, for he is full of vigour. There! well done; I have got him in the landing net. Is not he a beauty? A pound weight, I'll be bound; and what condition! His flesh will be almost as pink as that of a salmon. Further down stream I managed to take a fish in very different condition; I took him where the river was rather muddy, and flowed very slowly. Just look at him, with a body lean and dark coloured, and an enormous head for so slender a body. "Oh! but, papa," said Willy, "what are these curious creatures crawling over him? Do look." Ah! I know them well; anglers call them trout lice. I will scrape off a specimen, and put him in the bottle. Now look at him. The body is nearly round, and almost transparent; colour rather green; it has four pairs of swimming feet, each pair beset with a fringe of hairs; a pair of foot-jaws; a small half-cleft tail; and a pair of fleshy circular suckers just in front of the foot-jaws, by means of which the little creature is able to attach itself, as a parasite, upon various fish. It is a graceful little creature, and, as you see, can swim with great activity in the water; now it swims in a straight line, now it suddenly turns quickly round and turns over and over. It is known to naturalists under the name of Argulus foliaceus; I do not think it has any English name. It is found on many kinds of fish, and generally in greater abundance upon individuals that are in an unhealthy state; though these parasites often attach themselves to fish in good condition. The mouth is furnished with a long, sharp sucking-tube, by means of which the animal can pierce the skin of the fish it lives upon, and suck up the juices. We will take a few home, and I will show you the different parts of the creature under the microscope.
PARASITE (Argulus foliaceus) ON TROUT, NAT. SIZE AND MAGNIFIED.
Let us now sit down and rest for an hour, and eat our lunch; the fish do not rise as freely as they did; perhaps later on they will be in the humour again. But what do I see sticking to the sides of that rail across the river; I must go and see. Well, really this is an interesting thing. An immense mass of flies, a few alive, but the greater number quite dead; and, look! a quantity of white eggs underneath them. Let us examine a fly; it is of a brown or tawny colour, and has rather long, diverging, colourless wings, marked with irregular brown spots. Why, there must be thousands of dead flies covering these eggs. What an odd idea! Presently up comes Mr. Collins from the farm near the bank of the stream. "Oh, sir, I know those flies quite well; they are oak-flies (Leptis scolopacea)." Certainly not, I replied, though they do somewhat resemble them in colour and appearance; but the farmer stoutly asserted he was right, and I did not think it worth while discussing the matter further with him. Mr. Collins is a good fly-fisherman; and fly-fishermen, unless they are naturalists, are generally very positive. How often have I tried to teach anglers that the May-fly does not come from a caddis worm; how often have I failed! Well, the two-winged fly I have just found in such thousands, with their dead bodies brooding over this mass of eggs, is known to entomologists by the name of Atherix Ibis; the females are gregarious, and, as we have seen, attach their eggs to rails, boughs, or other objects overhanging streams; each female, having laid her eggs, remains there and dies; shortly after comes another and does the same, and so on till immense clusters are formed. The larva, when hatched, falls into the water, its future residence; it is said to have a forked tail about one third the length of its body, and to "have the power of raising itself in the water by an incessant undulating motion in a vertical plane." I am not, however, acquainted with either larva or pupa, but hope to become so this summer. "It is very curious, papa," said Jack, "that the flies, after they have laid their eggs, should die there; why do not they fly away? Do any other animals do the same?" Yes, pretty much so. Some of the female insects of the genus called Coccus, scale insect, or mealy bug, common on the stems of various trees, to which they sometimes do incredible mischief, lay their eggs and die over them, the dead bodies of the parents forming coverings for the young. See how fast the green drake is appearing. Notice how it flies with head erect for a second or two, and then falls almost helplessly on the surface of the water.
There! did you see that fish rise at him? He has escaped the hungry trout, and has reached a blade of grass, where he will probably rest for some hours. But give me my rod; perhaps the same trout will rise at my artificial fly. There! that throw was exactly over the spot. No; he won't have it. I'll try again and again. No. Objects to sauce piquante, I suppose. Well, I will tempt him again in an hour's time or so. The water is smooth here, and free from rapids; let us lie down on the grass and see the birth of Ephemera—for that is the May-fly's proper name. Here comes something floating down. It is within the reach of my hand, so I will secure it. What is it? As I thought. Ephemera is throwing off its swaddling clothes. See how it twirls and twists itself about. Now it is free; and the strange-looking worm has changed into a beautiful fly. But there is yet one other operation to go through ere it assumes its final and complete form; you see at present it is a heavy flier, for the wings are scarcely dry, and the muscles as yet unequal to great exertion; so in their present imperfect form they are constantly dropping for a second or two in the water, and are often sucked down the throat of some roach, trout, or other fish on the look-out. You should remember that the Ephemera, or May-fly, in this its sub-imago, or imperfect winged state, represents the "green drake" of the angler. What have I here on this blade of grass? Do you see? What is the shadowy form that lifelessly clings to it? It is a delicate membrane, thin and light; see, I blow it away. You saw the split in the back, through which the former tenant left the abode. It is the cast-off skin of the green drake, now metamorphosed into a creature more active than harlequin or columbine, the male into a dark brown insect, with gauze-like wings, the female into a beautiful creature, with body marbled white and brown, and able to fly well and strongly, now high in the air, now sailing along close to the surface of the water, ever and anon dipping gently into it for the purpose of laying her eggs. The small oval eggs sink down to the bottom, and attach themselves to the weeds and stones that are found there. The flight of the male Ephemera is different; it is the males that practise together that peculiar up-and-down dance, with heads erect and bodies curving prettily upwards; of course, you can understand how countless multitudes fall victims to fish and bird, for dainty morsels they are. These flies, though voracious feeders both in the larval and nymphal state, never eat at all after they have assumed their perfect form. Indeed, they have no true mouth, only an imperfect or rudimentary one; and you would never find a particle of food in their stomachs, which are always more or less full of air-bubbles, which, no doubt, assist in buoying up the insect, and thus save the expenditure of muscular power. I'll catch one of those dancing males, and press him quickly in the middle. There! crack he goes! for the little air-bubbles in the stomach have burst by the pressure of my finger and thumb.