Part 3

_Salvelina Malma, or Spectabilis, or Bairdil_

_Salmo Gardneri_, and

_Salmo Purpuratus_, or Clark’s trout.

The first named, called commonly by us the salmon trout, was abundant in all of the streams, from about middle of June until middle of September, evidently timing their arrival and departure by the movements of the salmon, upon whose eggs they live. I have noted, on June 1st, “No salmon trout yet in any of the streams. Several fine, large ones captured by the Indians in nets set in sea.” Ten days after, the streams were full of them, and in the earlier part of the interim many would run into the pools of the lower parts with the flooding tide, and out again on the ebb.

When they left us in September, it is probable that they migrated south, for in a letter to _Forest and Stream_, dated Portland, Oregon, September 28, a correspondent states that, in that month, “there begins to appear in the streams near the Columbia river, a trout,” whose description tallies exactly with that of the _spec-tabilis_, except that the correspondent speaks of their affording _fine sport with the fly_; this the trout while in Alaska fails to do. At first, the _spectabilis_ affect the rapids, but after a few days seek the deep pools, where they gather in great numbers, and bite ravenously on hooks covered with spawn and sunk to the bottom. Occasionally, when spawn was out, we used a bit of fresh venison; but at the best they cared little for it, and when the blood became soaked out, the bait was useless. Although fairly gamey when hooked, fishing for these trout was but a poor substitute, for one who had felt and remembered the thrills caused by sudden strikes of our Adirondack fish. I have often when pool-fishing, seen them leisurely approach the bait, and nibble at it as a dainty, full-fed kitten will at a bit of meat, and when one did get the hook, we found it out only by a slight resistance to the series of light twitches which it was necessary to give it. They have evidently been taught by experience that salmon roe is not apt to attempt escape. The usual size of the fish ranged from six to twelve inches—now and then one larger. The largest taken by any of us, near Sitka, fell victim to my “salmon spawn fly,” and gave my little Orvis rod half an hour’s good work. It measured twenty-one inches, but was very light for the length, weighing but two and three-quarter pounds. At the Redoubt river, much larger ones were taken; and two which I shot in Beardslee river were over two feet in length; how much they weighed I never found out, for their surroundings of sick and dying salmon, upon whose eggs they were feeding, prejudiced me against them and I left them.

In shape and color the _spectabilis_ vary greatly, both factors depending upon the length of time they have been in fresh water. When fresh run, they are long and lean, shaped somewhat like the lake trout of Adirondack lakes. The colors are dark lustrous olive-green back, growing lighter as the median line is approached, and blending into a silvery gray tint, which pales to a pure white on the belly; the green portion is sprinkled with golden specks; the flesh is hard, and very good for the table. After a very short sojourn in the creek, bright crimson specks appear among the golden, which, however, fade to a pale yellow; the lustre of the green disappears, they become heavier, but the flesh becomes soft and uneatable, and the skin is covered with slime. Salmon trout taken late in August and early in September, were full of ripe ova.

Professor Bean placed some fish, that had been taken in salt water, into a bucket of fresh, and the crimson spots made their appearance in less than a day.

When fully decked with these, and fattened, they resembled our _fontanalis_ greatly—the head, however, being somewhat larger, and the tail less square.

_Salmo Gardneri_. My acquaintance with this species is very limited. The first one that I saw I took in Sawmill Creek, well up to the head, in September, 1879. Seeing that it differed greatly from the _spectabilis_, I preserved it in alcohol, and it was subsequently identified by Professor Bean. It measured a trifle over ten inches, and was very plump, weighing seven and a quarter ounces. In my notes, I describe it thus: “Body, dark green on back, but in general colors very much like a steel head or quinnat salmon; covered with round, black spots, from one-sixteenth to one-eighth inch in diameter; these extend considerably below the median line, and the tail and dorsal fins are covered with them; the second dorsal adipose, but less so than that of the _fontanalis_, having a slight show of membrane, on which there are four spots; ventral and anal fins, yellowish in centre, bordered with red; belly, dull white; tail, nearly square; scales, quite large, about the size of those of a fingerling chub; flesh, firm; and skin, not slimy. No signs of ova or milt.”

On the 28th of April, 1880, I made note: “The first salmon of the season made their début to-day—that is, if they are salmon, which I doubt.

“Five beauties, from thirty to forty inches long, were brought alongside, in a canoe paddled by a wild-looking and awe-struck Siwash, who, with his crouching Klootchman and papoose, gazed upon our ship, guns, and us with an expression that showed them to be unfamiliar sights. He was evidently a stranger, and was taken in, for he took willingly two bits (25 cents) each for the fish, and no Sitka Siwasli but would have charged treble the price. Through an interpreter, I learned that he had spent the last seven months in a shanty on the western side of Kruzoff Island, and that well up, among the foot-hills of Mount Edgecomb, there was a little lake, from which there flowed a small stream into the Pacific, and that in the headwaters of this stream he had speared these fish, which run up the stream in the fall, remain all winter in the lake, and in early spring spawn in the head of the outlet.”

All of this militated strongly against the theory that they were salmon, and when, on being dressed, the females were found to be full of ripe ova, said theory was upset completely. My ten-inch specimen of last September supplied us with a clue, and it was soon decided that these magnificent fish were indeed trout; for in every respect except size, and size of spots, some of which were a quarter of an inch in diameter, the fish were identical. Whitford, the oldest inhabitant, confirmed the Indian’s story, and gave me in addition the Indian name for the fish—_Quot_ and that of the Russians, which I forget, but it meant “Mountain Trout,” and said that they are found only in the lakes, high up in the mountains, and that in winter the Indians spear and catch them through holes in the ice.

We found the flesh to be very delicious—far more so than the best of the salmon. The processes of cooking, both by broiling and boiling, had a curious effect, for the flesh, which, when uncooked, was of a very bright red, blanched to pure white.

The trip to Mount Edgecomb, in the early spring, involved hardship and danger; and although several of us resolved that we would undertake it, for the sake of such fish, somehow we never did, and I have thus described all of the _gardneri_ that I ever saw.

_Salmo purpuratus (Clarkii)_. The most beautiful of the trout family, although in no way equal to our Eastern trout in any other respect.

The _purpuratus_ is a lake trout, and found only in low-lying lakes. Just back of Sitka, at the foot of the mountains, and elevated perhaps twenty feet above the sea, is a little lake dubbed by me “_Piseco_”.

Handy to get at, and its outlet running through the centre of the town, it became, in early spring, our first resort for fishing. Arriving in June, 1879, many of us had, through days of fruitless endeavor, during the summer and autumn, grown to disbelieve the tales of the inhabitants, that this lake abounded in trout; but on the 20th of May, 1880, from somewhere, there thronged the shallow edges, among the lily pads, great schools of these trout, and for about two weeks there was no limit to the number one could take of them. Salmon spawn was the best bait, but a bit of venison would answer. A fly they would not rise to. In size, they ranged from six to twelve inches—the latter size being, however, very exceptional; their average was about eight inches. The description in my notes is: “Specimen, May 27th. Length, nine and one-half inches; depth, two and three-eighth inches; weight, five ounces; colors—back, rich, dark brown, growing lighter toward medial line; at which, covering it for a space of half an inch, there is a longitudinal stripe of rich purple, extending from opercle nearly to tail; below the median line, bright olive-green, lightening to silvery white on belly. All of the tinted portion is profusely sprinkled with oval black spots, which mark also the dorsal, caudal, and adipose fins; the ventral and anal fins are yellowish bordered with crimson; tail, nearly square.

“The entire tinted portion has a beautiful golden iridescence, so that when held in the sunlight, and looked at from the rear, it seems to be gilded.” It may be noticed that, with the exception of the purple stripe and the golden iridescence, the description of this fish is almost identical with that of the _gardneri_. I think it quite possible that they are the same at different ages, and that later in life these Clarkii may become ambitious and seek more lofty lakes. None that were taken contained ova.

Where they came from, unless they run up the inlet at night, no one found out, for although closely watched in the daytime, none were ever seen in it.

After about two weeks the greater portion disappeared, and although sought in the deep waters of the lake, could not be found. Major William Governeur Morris, the Collector of Customs of Alaska, assures me, however, that during the summer of 1882, he found certain places in the lake where he caught them until August. On July 4th he with a friend catching four hundred and three in three hours, baiting with a single salmon egg.

I am not sure that we could not have again found them, but the fishing having grown slack in the lake, and growing daily better in the creeks, we spent most of our time on the latter.

COMPARISON OF ALASKA WITH EASTERN TROUT.

The principal differences between the Alaska and Eastern trout are, first, all Alaskans have hyoid teeth, the eastern trout have not.

No Alaskan trout will take a fly. All Alaskan trout, I think, spend a portion of their lives in salt water. Length being equal, the Alaska trout, with the exception of the Gardneri, or mountain trout, are lighter than those of our eastern streams.

Using as a standard the average weight of a number of ten-inch Adirondack trout, the following table will show this:

Fontanalis-Adirondack, length 10 inches, Fresh-run Spectabilis, „ 10 „ Crimson-specked „ 10.3 „ Sal mo Clarkii, „ 9 „ Salmo Gardneri, „ 10.1 „

In conclusion, I must again request that this contribution shall not be considered and judged as an attempt to scientifically describe the fish treated upon, but rather as what it really is, a condensation of the field-notes of an amateur angler.

I have, in giving the sizes, weights, and other data in regard to the Alaska salmon and trout, depended almost entirely upon my personal knowledge and experience; it may not be out of place to add to them some data gathered from reliable authorities.

In his report on the resources of Alaska, Major Mm. Governeur Morris writes: “Sixty thousand Indians and several thousand Aleuts and Esquimaux depend for the most part upon dried salmon for their winter sustenance.”

The Hon. Wm. S. Hodge, formerly Mayor of Sitka, states in an official report: “And additional testimony comes to us from numerous persons, that at Cook’s Inlet the salmon average in weight sixty pounds, and some of them reach a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds, and Mr. T. G. Murphy only last week brought down from there on the _Newbern_ a barrel full, containing only _four_ fish.” Surgeon Thomas T. Minor, who some years ago visited Cook’s Inlet, in connection with business of the Smithsonian Institution, makes statements which confirm the foregoing.

In the vicinity of Klawaek a cannery is established. A catch of seven thousand fish at one haul of the seines is not unusual, many weighing over forty pounds.

Mr. Frederick Whymper, artist to the Russian Overland Telegraph Expedition, says in his well-written and interesting account of his adventures: “The Yukon salmon is by no means to be despised. One large variety is so rich that there is no necessity when frying it to put fat in the pan. The fish sometimes measure five feet in length, and I have seen boats whose sides were made of the tough skin.”

And a writer who, if disposed to strain the truth would not do so to say anything in favor of Alaska, says in an article in Harper’s Magazine, Vol. LV. page 815: “The number of spawning fish that ascend the Yukon every June or July is something fabulous.... It would appear reasonable to anticipate, therefore, the adoption by our fishermen of some machinery by which they can visit the Yukon when the salmon begin to run, and while they ascend the river catch a million pounds a day, for the raw material is there, of the largest size, the finest flavor, and the greatest number known to any stream in the world.’”

My general views about Alaska differ widely from those of the writer, but on the salmon question, I indorse all I have quoted, excepting only the word flavor.

I do not think the Alaska salmon equal in this respect to those of the Atlantic coast, and far behind those of the Rhine; they are, however, superior to those of the Columbia River.

In speaking of the salmon, I find I have omitted to mention that in early spring, before the arrival of the salmon trout, and after their departure in fall, great quantities of fingerling salmon pervaded the streams, and bit eagerly at any kind of meat bait.

While the _spectabilis_ were present, these little fellows kept out of sight and notice.

Since the body of this paper was written there has been on exhibition by Mr. Blackford, of Fulton Market, Yew York, a number of trout, pronounced to be the _salmo irideus_, one of which, weighing fifteen pounds, was sent to the Smithsonian Institution, and there identified by Professor Bean as being “_Salmo gardneri, the great trout of Edgecomb Lake_.”

I, studying these fish in their glass tank, did not form this opinion, for Blackford’s trout had a broad red band extending from just back of the eye to the tail, covering the opercule, a marking not existing on any of the Edgecomb trout I have seen. But the Professor assures me that “_color on the lateral line is not a specific character_.” On comparing my notes of description of these fish, I find that in all other respects they did appear identical, hence that the conclusion arrived at by Prof. Bean, that “the _gardneri_ and the _irideus_ (or rainbow trout of McCloud River), are identical seems well founded. If so, and my crude supposition that the Clarkii, obtained in Piseco Lake near Sitka are also identical with the gardneri turns out to be correct, there can be a condensation of nomenclature, which will lead to at least one valuable result from this paper.

“No sooner had the barbed hook fastened in its insidious hold, and the impaled monarch learned that he was captive, than every effort of his lithe and agile frame was brought into play to recover freedom. In every struggle, in every effort to burst thee bonds that made him captive, there was an utter recklesness of consequences, a disregard for life that was previously unknown, as from side to side of the pool he rushed, or headlong stemmed the sweeping current. Nor did the hero confine himself to His own element; again and again he burst from its surface to fall back fatigued, but not conquered. The battle was a severe one, a struggle to the death; and when the landing net placed the victim at my feet, I felt that he had died the death of a hero. Such was my first sea-trout, no gamer, truly, than hundreds I have captured since; but what can be expected of a race of which every member is a hero?”—_Parker Gilmore_.

“If, indeed, you be an angler, join us and welcome, for then it is known to you that no man is in perfect condition to enjoy scenery unless he have a fly-rod in his hand and a fly-book in his pocket.”—_Wm. G. Prime_.

“It was something more than a splendid trout that he brought to our view as we met him at the landing. The young heart in the old body—the genuine enthusiasm of the veteran angler—the glorification of the gentle art which has soothed and comforted many an aged philosopher—all this he revealed to us, and we wanted to lift the grand old man to our shoulders and bear him in reverent triumph up the ascent.”—A. Judd Northrop.

“From the fisherman’s point of view, the sea trout is equal to the finest grilse that ever ascended Tay or Tweed, exceeding, as he does, for gameness and pertinacity every other British fish.”—_David Foster_.

1. Silver Doctor.

2. Scarlet Ibis.

3. Black June.

4. Gray Drake.

5. Captain.

6.’Academy.

“As to flies, the indifference of sea-trout about kind, when they are in the humor to take any, almost warrants the belief of some anglers that they leap in mere sport at whatever chances to be floating. It is true they will take incredible combinations, as if color-blind and blind to form. But experiments on their caprice are not safe. If their desire is to be tempted, that may most surely be done with three insects, adapted to proper places and seasons. One need not go beyond the range of a red-bodied fly with blue tip and wood-duck wings for ordinary use, a small all gray fly for low water in bright light, and a yellowish fly, green striped and winged with curlew feathers, for a fine cast under the alders for the patriarchs.”—_A. R. Macdonough_.

“His tackle, for brieht airless days, is o’ gossamere; and at a wee distance aff, you think he’s fishin’ without ony line ava, till whirr gangs the pirn, and up springs the sea-trout, silver-brieht, twa yards out o’ the water, by a delicate jerk o’ the wrist, hyucked inextricably by the tongue clean ower the barb o’ the kirby-bend. Midge-flees!”—_The Ettrick Shepherd_.

“O, sir, doubt not but that Angling is an art; is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly?”—_Izaak-Walton._

“Sea-trout show themselves wherever salmon are found, but not always simultaneously with them. In rivers where the salmon run begins in May or early June, you need not look for sea-trout in any considerable numbers before well on into July. Intermediately they are found in tide-water at the mouths of the salmon rivers, and often in such numbers and of such weight as give the angler superb sport.”—_George Dawson_.

SEA-TROUT.

By Fitz James Fitch.

Sunday morning, August 2, 1874, found us, Mr. A. R. Macdonough and me, at Tadousac, a French. Canadian village, very small for its age, situated on the northeast shore of the Saguenay River, one and a half miles from the junction of its dark and mighty waters with the turbid and mightier St. Lawrence. This day was the beginning of the culmination of four months of preparation for a month’s release from the business world, its toil, care and worry. The preparations began with the payment of $150 in gold—$171.20 currency—the rent named in a lease securing to us the exclusive right to fish a river on the north shore of, and emptying into, the St. Lawrence many miles below the Saguenay. We left New York sweltering in a temperature that sent the mercury up to the nineties; were fanned by the cool evening breeze of the Hudson, and later by the cooler breath of the old Catskills, around which cluster the recollections and associations of thirty years of my life. We had travelled by rail to Montreal, 412 miles, and spent a day there; by steamboat to Quebec, 180 miles, where we passed twenty-four hours. We had left this, the most interesting city of English-speaking North America, in the morning by steamboat, and, after a day of delights upon this majestic river, the St. Lawrence, reached L’Anse à l’Eau, the landing for Tadousac, 130 miles, in the evening of August 1st.

We felt as we walked out upon the wide piazza of the Tadousac Hotel that

“summer Sunday morn

When Nature’s face was fair,”

and looked up that mysterious river, the Saguenay, and upon its castellated mountains of granite, that indeed “the lines had fallen to us in pleasant places.” We had reached the end, as our course lay, of railroads and steamboat lines, and must finish our journey in _chaloupe_ and birch-bark canoe. We were there to leave civilization and its conveniences for nature and primitive modes of life. In the story I am relating my progress up to this point has been as rapid as was our transit. From this point on it must correspond with our slower mode of progression; and hence there must be more of detail in what follows. I hope, but cannot expect, that the reader will find the change as agreeable and free from irksomeness as we found our _chaloupe_, canoe, tent, and life in the woods.