Part 4

The subject of artificial flies is a most complex one. All fly-fishers have their favorites, with or without reason, and swear by them on all occasions. Some confine themselves to the various hackles, others to half-a-dozen winged flies, while still others are only satisfied with a fly-book filled to bursting with scores of all sizes and colors. In this connection it is as well to say that about the beginning of the century there was a discussion in the London _Fishing Gazette_ as to what artificial fly, in case an angler was restricted to a single one, would be preferred for use during an entire season. The consensus of opinion was in favor of the "March brown," with the "olive dun" as a good second. These are both killing flies in America as well as in England for trout fishing.

[Sidenote: Selection of Flies]

In addition to them the coachman, professor, Montreal, dotterel or yellow dun, with the black, brown, red and gray hackles should be sufficient on almost any stream, if tied in several sizes, say on hooks Nos. 6 to 12, with a preference for the intermediate numbers. From my experience I would be satisfied with such an assortment. Other anglers, of course, would think otherwise, and would prefer quite a different selection--but this is in accordance with one of the accepted and acknowledged privileges of the gentle art. And this, at the same time, is as it should be. One who has had more success with certain flies than with others, all things being equal, should pin his faith to them. And this, moreover, explains why there is such an extensive list to choose from in the fly-tier's catalogue, which contains the preferences of many generations of fly-fishers.

[Sidenote: Philosophy of Artificial Flies]

The question as to the best fly to use at certain seasons, or at any season, is a vexed one. Whether it is the colored dressing of the fly, or its form, that is most enticing to the fish, will perhaps never be known, except approximately. Of the long list of named artificial flies the choice of most anglers has been narrowed to a score or two, and for the only reason that they have been more or less successful with them. We are apt to look at the matter from our own viewpoint, and often without reference to that of the fish.

Reasoning from the appearance of artificial flies in general, it would seem that on a fretted surface almost any one of the many hundreds should get a rise from a fish, if in a biting mood, and, indeed, this is in a measure true. But one swallow does not make a summer. There are times and places when any old thing, even a bit of colored rag, will coax a rise. I have had good success with a bit of the skin of a chicken neck with a feather or two attached. Then there are times when nothing but natural bait proves alluring.

[Sidenote: Why a Trout Takes a Fly]

We may assume as almost a self-evident proposition that a fish takes an artificial fly under the delusion that it is a natural one, or something good to eat--otherwise it would not take it at all. If this assumption is correct, then it would follow that the best imitations of natural flies or insects should be the most successful. This is, in the main, a reasonable conclusion, though on the other hand certain flies that are universally considered and used as good ones, do not, to our eyes at least, bear any resemblance to any known insect--for instance the coachman, professor and other so-called fancy flies.

[Sidenote: The Angler's Viewpoint]

An artificial fly on the ruffled surface of the water presents a very different appearance to the same fly when held in one's hand, even to our own eyes; what, then, does it look like to the fish? That's the question. I have often attempted to solve it by diving beneath and viewing the fly on the surface. If the water was perfectly clear and calm, without a ripple, it simply looked like a dark fly, no matter what its color, though I could sometimes discern the lighter color of the wings when formed of undyed mallard or wood-duck feathers. When the surface was ruffled it was so indistinct that a bit of leaf would have seemed the same. A somewhat similar experiment may be performed, in a minor degree, by placing a mirror at the bottom of a barrel of water and viewing the reflection of the fly on the surface.

[Sidenote: The Trout's Viewpoint]

We can surmise that fish are not color-blind, otherwise there would be no reason for the beautiful colors that many male fishes assume during the breeding season. Fishes are possessed of keen vision, and possibly have the faculty of distinguishing colors in a fly, even when on a fretted surface, where to our eyes they are very indistinct, and where even the form can not be well defined.

[Sidenote: Flies in Their Season]

In Great Britain it is the rule to use certain flies at different seasons, that is, to employ the imitations of such natural flies as are on the water at the time. This seems quite reasonable in view of the fact that the trout streams there are shallow, and especially so in the case of the chalk-streams whose bright colored bottoms may enhance the visual powers of the fish in discerning, by the reflected light, the form and colors of the artificial fly.

[Sidenote: Imitations of Natural Flies]

We may conclude, then, that as trout are in the habit of feeding on such flies and insects as resort to, or are hatched in, the water, that the best imitations of such natural flies, from the trout's viewpoint, would be the most alluring. I think it goes without saying, that all past experience has proven that the imitations of some of the commonest aquatic insects have been the most successful under all conditions. This would include not only the imago, but the larva, as represented by the various hackle flies.

[Sidenote: Dark or Light Colored Flies]

The old rule to use light-colored flies on dark days and high or discolored water, and darker flies on bright days, or with low and clear water, has been followed for centuries, and in the main is true and reliable. As some anglers have found that a reversed application of it has been successful, at times, they are inclined to doubt it altogether. However, they do not look at it intelligently. With clear water and a clear atmosphere a light-colored fly will show as plainly on the surface as a dark one to the fish below. If we gaze upward during a fall of snow, the flakes appear quite dark, while on a level or below the eye they appear white. Apparently, then, there are other conditions that must be taken into account. With a sunken fly, for instance, the case is different, for a dark fly then appears more distinct than a light one, in clear water; but with milky or discolored water a bright fly is more easily discerned below the surface--hence the rule. And on the same principle smaller flies are suitable for bright days and clear water, and larger ones for dark days and discolored water.

[Sidenote: The Non-Rising of Trout]

In a very interesting address delivered before the Anglers Club, of Glasgow, Scotland, on "Why do trout sometimes not rise to the artificial fly?" the lecturer after naming and discussing many of the reasons usually advanced, said:

"And what is the conclusion of the whole matter? Shortly, this--that there is a great deal about the question that we know little or nothing about."

He advised his brother anglers to "Watch narrowly the facts as observed in nature, note them down carefully at the time, compare them with those of brother anglers on occasions such as this, and out of all evolve theories which, when reduced to practice, will be found to have carried us nearer to the truth."

[Sidenote: Condition Versus Theory]

This is very good advice freely given--and by the way advice is more easily given than reliable information in a case like this. Nevertheless fly-fishers should consider that a "condition, not a theory," confronts them in the rising or non-rising of a trout to an artificial fly, and should endeavor to ascertain, if such be possible, just what conditions are present to account for the peculiar actions, at different times, of those elusive creatures of the adipose fin, that according to popular opinion seem to have as many moods as specks or spots.

[Sidenote: A Probable Reason]

There is one feature of this subject, however, that I have never known to be alluded to, which is this: That the rising or non-rising of trout may depend on the scarcity or abundance of the fish. In regions where trout are unusually abundant I have never, in my experience, known them to fail to rise to the artificial fly, at any time of day, or under almost any condition of wind or weather. It is only in sections that are much fished, and fish consequently scarce, or "educated," as some term it for want of a better reason, that trout fail to respond to the solicitations of the fly-fisher.

[Sidenote: Abundance of Trout]

In the wilds of Canada I have had trout rise to my fly by the dozen, day after day, so that all semblance of sport disappeared, and only enough were taken for the frying-pan. In Yellowstone Lake the merest tyro can take the red-throat trout until his arms ache, at any time of day, beneath clouds or sunshine. And in the river below the lake one can stand on the bank in plain sight of the trout, which, with one eye on the angler and the other on the fly, rushes to his doom by snapping up the tinseled lure, contrary to all conventional lore. This is an extreme case, of course, for the trout are extremely abundant, or were so as late as the summer of 1904.

[Sidenote: Scarcity of Trout]

One can imagine that in the clear and shallow streams of England, which have been thrashed by the flies of anglers, good, bad and indifferent, for centuries, and where trout are consequently and necessarily scarce, or "educated," that they fail to rise--in other words they are not always there. This, I think, is the reason that dry fly-fishing is becoming the vogue in that country, where the angler waits patiently by the stream until a trout rising to a natural fly proclaims its presence. The rest is easy.

[Sidenote: Practical Hints]

For obvious reasons it is always best to fish down stream where there is a current; in comparatively still water one may fish up-stream or down. I would advise the angler, by all means, to wade, as he has more command of the water on either hand, with plenty of room for the back cast, and can float his flies under overhanging bushes and banks, or in the eddies of rocks. As the water is cold at this season he should be warmly clad, putting on two pairs of woolen socks or stockings, with rubber hip boots or wading pants. He should move slowly and cautiously, fishing every available spot before advancing a step. By hurrying along as some anglers do, he soon gets heated, even in cool weather, with the result that his nether extremities are soon bathed in a more or less profuse perspiration, and he is altogether a "dem'd, damp, moist, unpleasant body." To make haste slowly is the wise and proper thing in wading a stream. It is the slow, deliberate angler who gets the trout.

[Sidenote: A Timely Tip]

Some streams are likely to be occasionally swollen or roiled by spring rains or by the June rise. At such times, when not too much discolored for fly-fishing, the angler will do well to avoid the channel of the stream and cast his flies along the edges, where the water is clearer. This tip may add many a fish to an otherwise scanty creel.

[Sidenote: Likely Places]

When the stream is at its ordinary stage, and clear, the riffles and eddies are the most likely places at this season, and will be pretty sure to reward the careful angler. In fishing such places the flies should be floated over them, allowing them to sink below the surface occasionally. In addition to the flies mentioned for May, the stone fly, gray drake and brown drake will be found useful, especially in localities where the May-fly or sand-fly puts in an appearance. During the hottest days of summer, when the water is warmer, trout are more apt to be found at the mouths of small spring brooks, or in the deepest portions of the stream.

[Sidenote: Management of Flies]

Churning the flies up and down, or wiggling and dancing them, should be avoided; the only motion, if any, should be a very slight fluttering, such as a drowning insect might make as it floats down stream. Strike lightly. Should the trout leap after being hooked, as it sometimes does in the shallow water of riffles, lower the tip slightly for half a second, but recover it immediately--in other words it is simply a down and up movement about as quickly as it can be done.

[Sidenote: Lowering the Tip]

And talking of lowering the tip--it may not seem out of place to make a few observations concerning that proceeding which some anglers do not seem to understand, or at least do not fully appreciate. The rule of lowering the tip to a leaping fish is a very old one, centuries old in fact, and is founded on the experience of anglers for many generations past. Its usefulness and reasonableness is as manifest in the twentieth century as at any former time.

But because some thoughtless anglers at the present day have succeeded in landing a leaping and well-hooked fish without observing the rule, they decry it as entirely unnecessary, and declare that it ought to be relegated to the limbo of obsolete and fanciful notions and useless practices. The iconoclast usually attacks his images without thought or reason, and often in sheer ignorance. A little reflection might enlighten him and cause him to stay his hand.

[Sidenote: Origin of the Rule]

The rule originated in Great Britain and pertained particularly to fly-fishing. The very small hooks on which trout flies were tied offered but a slight hold on the mouth of the fish, and in case that a leaping fish threw its weight on a taut line and raised rod it was almost sure to break away--hence the rule to lower the tip and release the tension for a brief moment. As the fish regained the water the tip was raised and the former tension resumed. It must be understood, however, that "lowering the tip" does not mean to touch the water with the tip, but as the rod is usually held at an angle of forty-five degrees, a downward deflection of the tip for a foot will usually suffice.

[Sidenote: They Who Differ]

So far as my observation goes the objections to the rule have been raised by black bass bait-fishers who use heavy rods, strong tackle and large hooks. Under these circumstances a fish is usually so securely hooked by a vigorous yank that the lowering of the tip, when it leaps from the water, is not so essential, inasmuch as the angler has a cinch on his quarry whether the line be slack or taut.

[Sidenote: Long and Short Line]

But even in bait-fishing, with a light rod and corresponding tackle and a small hook, it is a wise plan to follow a leaping fish back to the water by slightly lowering the tip, especially on a short line--with a long line it does not matter so much, as the "give" of a pliant rod and long line is usually sufficient to relieve the increased tension when a fish is in the air.

[Sidenote: Dry Fly-Fishing]

Dry fly-fishing is the latest angling cult in England, but I do not think that it will find many adherents in this country. For one reason, the dry fly must be cast up-stream, which will never be a favorite method with American anglers for well-known reasons. Then again, our trout streams are usually swift and broken, and under these conditions the dry fly is soon drowned and becomes a wet fly, thus subverting the cardinal principle of dry fly-fishing. In England this method is practiced on comparatively smooth, shallow streams with but little current. The flies are constructed with rather large, upright wings and spreading hackle, and often with cork bodies, to enhance their capacity for floating and buoyancy.

[Sidenote: Comparisons are Odious]

While fly-fishing, wet or dry, is unquestionably the highest branch of angling, and far preferable to bait-fishing for trout, it does not follow that fishing with the dry fly, or floating fly, is a superior art to fishing with the wet or sunken fly, as claimed by some of the dry fly-fishers of England. Indeed, some of the ultra dry fly enthusiasts have arrogated to themselves the distinction of practicing the most artistic and sportsmanlike method of angling, and look askance, if not with disdain and contempt, at the wet fly-fishers, whom they designate as the "chuck and chance it" sort.

I can not think that the position they have assumed can be justly maintained, or that it is warranted by the facts of the case. As dry fly-fishing is being taken up by a few American anglers, it may be well enough to give the alleged superiority of the method some consideration.

[Sidenote: Modus Operandi]

Some years ago the _modus operandi_ of dry fly-fishing was explained to me, personally, by Mr. William Senior, editor of the London _Field_. The angler waits beside the swim until a trout betrays its whereabouts by rising to a newly hatched gnat or fly, creating a dimple on the surface. The angler then, kneeling on one knee, sometimes having a knee-pad strapped on, cautiously casts his floating May-fly, with cocked wings, and anointed with paraffin or vaseline. The fly is deftly and lightly cast up-stream, a little above the swirl of the trout, and is permitted to float down, as naturally as possible, over the fish. There being no response after a cast or two, the angler switches the fly in the air to dry it, and awaits the tell-tale evidence of a fish before again offering the buoyant lure. Now, I cannot imagine why this method is claimed to be on a higher plane of angling than the "chuck and chance it" method. Certainly a knowledge of the habits of the trout is not essential, inasmuch as the angler makes his cast only on the appearance of the fish.

[Sidenote: The Wet Fly-Fisher]

On the other hand the wet fly-fisher, wading down stream or up stream, brings to his aid his knowledge of the habits and haunts of the trout, and casts his flies over every likely spot where his experience leads him to think a fish may lie. It is this eager expectancy, or fond anticipation, with every cast, that makes up much of the real pleasure of angling, and which is utterly lost to the dry fly-fisher, who waits and watches on the bank, like a kingfisher on his perch.

While there can be no objection to dry fly-fishing, _per se_, and which, moreover, I welcome as a pleasing and meritorious innovation, I feel compelled to enter a protest against claiming for it a higher niche in the ethics of sport than wet fly-fishing. And with all due respect for the dry fly men of Great Britain, I can not admit that they trot in a higher class than those "chuck and chance it" fishers of honored and revered memory: Sir Humphry Davy, "Christopher North" and Francis Francis.

[Sidenote: Bait Fishing]

It is the practice of some anglers to confine themselves entirely to natural bait in trout fishing, the favorite bait being the earthworm or "barnyard hackle"; also grasshoppers, grubs, crickets, or bits of animal flesh. While not so artistic, or for that matter not so successful as fly-fishing when the streams are clear, there are times when bait-fishing can be practiced without prejudice, and to better advantage than fly-fishing: as when streams are rendered turbid or roily by rains.

A capital bait is the beautifully tinted anal fin of a trout, which in water with some current waves, wabbles and flutters in a most seductive manner on the hook. Its effect is heightened, and its resemblance to a living insect is more pronounced, if the eye of a trout is first impaled on the hook through its enveloping membrane, care being taken not to puncture the eyeball.

[Sidenote: A Fish Story]

I was once fishing with fin-bait in Wisconsin, early in the season when the stream was milky, when one trout was badly hooked, the point of the hook forcing out the eyeball, which hung on its cheek. I carefully unhooked the fish and plucked off the eye, when the unfortunate trout flopped out of my hand into the stream before I could kill it. I added the eyeball to my fin-bait, and strange to say I soon caught the same trout with its own eye! While this story may be more difficult for the uninitiated to swallow than for the trout to bolt its own eye, it is nevertheless true, and may be taken as proof that fish are not very sensitive to pain.

[Sidenote: Tools and Tackle]

The equipment recommended for fly-fishing will answer just as well for bait-fishing, as the baits commonly used are light. In some instances, however, a slightly heavier or stiffer rod may be employed, especially if the small casting-spoon or a small minnow is used for large trout. Hooks from Nos. 5 to 7 are about right.

[Sidenote: The Sea Trout]

Whether the sea-trout, or salmon-trout, of the Gulf of St. Lawrence is a different species from the speckled brook trout of the upper parts of rivers emptying into said Gulf has been a mooted question for many years, arguments _pro and con_ having been advanced by a number of intelligent and observant anglers. In 1834 Hamilton Smith described it as a new species under the name of _Salmo canadensis_, and in 1850 H. R. Storer named it _Salmo immaculatus_. Later and better authorities, however, have decided that it is only a sea-run form of the speckled brook trout, _Salvelinus fontinalis_. I unhesitatingly indorse this opinion. Many years ago Dr. W. W. Dawson and myself investigated the matter thoroughly while salmon fishing on the Restigouche River. About the Metapediac, and below the railroad bridge, we caught the brook trout with its crimson and yellow spots, and near Campbellton, at the mouth of the river, we took the fresh-run form of bright silvery coloration, with scarcely any markings on the back and without spots. We also caught them a little higher up the river in transition stages, when the characteristic spots were beginning to appear, more or less pronounced. We compared hundreds, from plain silvery form to those with bright crimson and golden spots, but could find no structural differences.

[Sidenote: Changes in Coloration]

Marine fishes are very constant in coloration, the non-colored portions being quite silvery, while fishes of fresh waters are subject to frequent changes in hue, being much influenced in this respect by the character of their haunts. So when the brook trout "goes to sea" it loses its spots and takes on the silvery livery of marine fishes, but resumes its original coloration soon after entering fresh water.

[Sidenote: The Winninish]

Just why the winninish of the upper St. Lawrence, which is but a dwarfed form of the Atlantic salmon, does not also proceed to sea after the spawning season, like its prototype, is another puzzling proposition. It has been argued by some that the winninish is the original, or typical species, and that the anadromous salmon is descended from individuals that took on the seafaring habit. But such speculative theories can never be proven.

[Sidenote: A Virgin Trout Stream]

Twenty years ago, Dr. W. W. Dawson, of Cincinnati--then president of the American Medical Association--and myself were guests of Surgeon-General Baxter, U.S.A., at his fishing lodge near Metapedia, on the Restigouche River, New Brunswick. Twenty years ago! How time flies! Since then my dear friends, Doctors Dawson and Baxter, have both crossed the silent river, though it seems but a few weeks since we were casting our lines in the pleasant places on the famous Restigouche. Indeed, that pleasant summer seems as but yesterday, when Mrs. Baxter killed with her own rod six salmon, running from twenty to thirty pounds, and was not more than thirty minutes in bringing any of them to gaff.