LIBRARY OP GAUFOftNIA SAN DIEGO ftc SPORTING SKETCHES BRAVE BROWN BOB .SPORTING SKETCHES EDWYN SANDYS AUTHOR OF "UPLAND GAME BIRDS," "TRAPPER 'JIM,'" "SPORTSMAN 'JOE,'" ETC. Ntfo gorfe THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON : MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. All right i reserved COFYMGHT, 1905, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1005. Nortoooti $rrs J. 8. Cubing fe Co. Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, MM., U.S.A. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE WITCHERY OF WA-WA II. WITH AND AGAINST THE GRAINS . . . . l8 III. THE WIZARD OF THE WETLANDS * . . -38 IV. BEACH-COMBERS ........ 55 V. A BIT OF RIVER ........ 68 VI. THE FISHING OF THE FREE FOLK .... 83 VII. THE FISHES OF OUR BOYHOOD ..... 98 VIII. SOME TRUTHS ABOUT TROUTING v . . . "5 IX. THE BEST OF THE BASS . . . . . .126 X. A MATTER OF MASCALONGE . "" . . . . 142 XL A BIT OF SEA FISHING . . V . . . .155 XII. RAIL AND REED BIRD . . / . . , .163 XIII. A DAY WITH THE WOODCOCK . ^ . . . .173 XIV. BLUEFISH AND BLUE WATERS . \s . . . .187 XV. A VANCOUVER SALMON . . *' . . . .197 XVI. WOOD-DUCK AND WOOD-DUCK SHOOTING . v . . 205 XVII. A RED-LETTER DAY . . . . f . . . 221 XVIII. PICKED FROM THE PRAIRIE PROVINCE { . . .233 XIX. THE CONVERSION OF TRAPPER LEWIS . . . 260 XX. FOUR OF A KIND . . . . v , . . 274 XXI. THE RUFFED GROUSE AND GROUSE SHOOTING . . 284 XXII. ROBERT WHITE, JR ....... . 300 vi Contents CHAFTBR PACK XXIII. A SKIRMISH WITH SQUIRRELS . . . . . 317 XXIV. TURKEY WITH THANKSGIVING ' . . . -331 XXV. A COLD TRAIL . . . .../. . . .341 XXVI. THE WHITE WOLF OF THE NORTH v . . . 354 XXVII. IN THE HAUNTS OF THE HARE . . . . 364 XXVIII. FISHING THROUGH THE ICE . . . . . 379 SPORTING SKETCHES Many of these sporting sketches originally appeared in Outing. For the privilege of present use I am indebted to the courtesy of that best of sporting magazines. E. s. IN the North the spring comes in a day. For four long months the white paw of the Arctic bear holds everything in icy clutch. The tread of it flattens all minor growths, the iron claws of it hook into vale and ravine, and at their touch the singing waters cease their foamy play and chill and stiffen in the coldness of a deathlike trance. On stream and pond flashes the crystal breastplate of the Frost King's service. To them comes the Captain Bear. " Sleep " is the monarch's order, which the captain must enforce ; so he travels far and wide, treading with creaking weight on snowy feet. His "grand rounds" mean rest, the ceasing of all strife, the temporary triumph of the forces of the North upon that bloodless field which must in turn be won and 2 Sporting Sketches lost forever while the seasons roll. The ear may trace his progress by the straggling salute of small- arms from the sentinel trees, which fire and stiffen to attention ; by the long, booming roll of big guns from icy plains in obedience to the order, " Salute and solidify." Upon the roof of a trout pool the bear halts. His round ear has caught the whisper- ing giggle of water playing under the shelter of some kindly root. The keen white nose is lowered to the cavity ; the " Woof ! " of the blasting breath thrills the interior, and the player ceases. Under the ice lie the trout, waiting, listening for the tread of the bear which they know will surely come. When the light above fails and the ice- batteries boom, they feel his presence, and turning noses to the failing stream, they bide the issue. To them come mink and otter. Only these two can outwit the bear. They know certain unfilled rivet- holes in the icy armor and its occasional flaws. Through these they slide to harry the helpless quarry. But the bear has orders to obey. His business is to see that the Law of the North is heeded. When the rallied forces of the South again rush northward, he must slowly fall back, disputing every league of field until the last furious charge drives him to the berg-piled, impregnable stronghold of his king. Over the war-worn field stream the restored folk, singing and making merry. But not far from its southern rim they halt, half afraid, as the signs of recent conflict are yet too fresli for timid hearts. They halt and peer this way and that. " Is it a The Witchery of Wa-Wa 3 trick? Has the White Bear really gone north?" ask the little people. " He has ! He has ! " shouts the prideful, loud- voiced stream. " I have defeated him see me hurl his broken bonds to crashing confusion ! " " Cheer-up cheer-up he's-away-in-defeat-in-de- feat ! " chortles a fat robin. " Luck-y-thing luck-y-thing ! " adds a glistening grackle, lightly clashing his cymbals. " He-e-e ? Gone to sea ! " flutes a redwing. " May-bee may- bee," mutters a flycatcher. " I-think-think-think-he- has-gone-to-sea," trills a modest sparrow. " Wrong ! all-wrong ! Cranks ! all-wrong ! " suddenly shouts a mighty voice ; and behold ! the great gray goose, captain of all Northern raids the war-worn Wa-Wa. Wizard of wastes of sea and land, pioneer of prospecting poleward ; better than all he knows the shift of season and the northward mystery. His scoutings have extended to the last wan berg, and his trumpet has thrilled the remotest corner of the White Bear's den. Like most great captains, he is curt, while loud of speech. " Tarry awhile," he says ; " if within two weeks I come not back, then for-'ard all ! " Through his brazen trumpet he blares a thrilling order, and prompt and silent his gray-clad troop falls in. " En avant ! " The clang of it stirs the blood of all, for each has heard the tongue in old Quebec and in the farther wastes, and the sound of it recalls the joys of sweet new pasturage, of love-making, and happy summer homes in Daylight Land. " En avant ! " Like the head of a mighty arrow shot poleward, the drilled battalion hisses through 4 Sporting Sketches the cold, thin upper air. Wa-Wa himself is leading, for none other so well understands how best to wedge opposing airs, or when to rise above, or to dip below quarrelling winds. He also best knows the route, for he has been over it, to and fro, each spring and fall, ever since that wonderful first autumn when his parents shepherded him and his brothers and sisters from Arctic meadows down to the lazy, locked lagoons of the South. " En avant ! " He loves to give that order. For many years he has set the pace, yet each succeeding season has found him keener for the northward flight. He may dawdle when southward bound, but going north is different. Then he always fol- lows the old trail, stooping to this plain and that lake, and tarrying only for food and rest, or while temporarily storm-bound, until he reaches a certain point. From this he bears west-by-north until the forest dwindles and below him spread two big lakes with a little lake between. Into this little lake runs a big river and out of it runs another big river. The little lake is ringed with marshes, beyond which, upon one side, lie leagues of level fat-lands, squared with withered corn and the green of winter wheat. Here he always halts for rest and refreshments. He may stay a week or a month. It matters not, for it is the loveliest spot, save one, along the route. The other spot is his birthplace, away up in a Manitoba muskeg. Its real merit is its privacy, otherwise it is a rotten bad place, but then everybody knows what a goose a goose is apt to be over goose affairs ! Wa-Wa has another and a private reason for halting by the little lake. Years ago, during his The Witchery of Wa-Wa 5 third visit, he was leading his battalion in to feed at gray dawn, when a long-legged, lathy-looking, brown- faced boy suddenly rose from a pile of corn-fodder and shot at him. Wa-Wa felt something hot slice across his breast, and for a moment his strong flight wavered. Then he recovered himself, and, shouting defiance at his foe's single-barrel, he led his honking troop five miles away to a safer ground. But before departing he took a good look at his enemy, and the mental picture never faded. The long, lean figure, the smooth, swart face, the black hair, and the great, staring eyes were unmistakable, and Wa-Wa vowed to get even or, as he put it, " hunk ! " For weeks the wound bothered him, but at last it healed. Yet the mark of it remained. When- ever Wa-Wa reared his long body upright and bent his snaky black neck to arrange his lower plumage, he saw a snow-white streak amid his dressy gray. And every time he saw it his eyes would gleam and he'd hiss savagely and snap at the grass. " Why do you brood over it, dear ? That miser- able boy is not worth remembering," his wife would say. In her heart she was rather proud of Wa-Wa's badge of having been in action, and she almost wished that the shot could have raked both sides alike, for a white line on both sides would have been so dressy and so different from anything worn by any of the other ganders. She used to declare that she loved to stand upon Wa-Wa's left, for then the white line exactly matched the crescent-shaped white cravat which she always wore. She never said so much to Wa-Wa but once. That time he looked at her with a perfectly horrible stare then 6 Sporting Sketches waddled off, hissing until he found a couple of the toughest old ganders on the grounds. When next he led his followers to the little lake, he changed his tactics. All pitched in the open lake, and after they had " washed-up " and become eager for young wheat, Wa-Wa ordered them to stop where they were, while he flew in to spy out the land. They were somewhat astonished, but no goose ever disobeys; so they waited, wondering what new wrinkle was bothering their wise old leader. Wa-Wa flew slowly in, keeping one hundred yards above the wet fields and carefully scanning every yard of possible cover. The sun was just rising, and the first ray to touch the ambush of the last year waked a flare of red and a dazzling white flash. Wa-Wa well knew that a human face in such light shows very red, and that a gun-barrel flashes white. A few seconds later he almost screamed with rage, for there lay his foe eyes, hair, long figure, and all. Slowly and steadily Wa-Wa drifted in, till he saw his foe spring to his knees. Then Wa-Wa climbed straight up, as he well knew how to do. A double report sounded dully from below, but nothing happened. " He can shoot twice now," thought Wa-Wa, as he swung wide. Then he shouted as loudly as he could, "Hunk! get hunk hunk / " and bore away to his friends, whom he led to a point some three hundred yards from the danger zone. Telling a trusty young gander to keep a keen watch upon the skulker, Wa-Wa hastily fed, then relieved his sentry. Slim-necked, erect, and tall, he stood, his small, angry eyes never shift- The Wticbery of Wa-Wa 7 ing from his foe. Finally, after all had fed, he gave the order to rise as straight up as possible and to follow him. In a grand, sweeping curve he led them till they were directly over the foe. Two puffs of smoke sprang upward and a spatter of harmless stuff touched a few flight feathers. " Mark him well never nearer! " ordered Wa-Wa, and his merry troop chattered back a jesting assent. Then Wa-Wa twisted his neck downward and roared, " Hunk ! get hunk hunk ! " Day after day Wa-Wa played his game of coming in alone and spying till he had located the peril, then leading his troop as closely as he dared, until the smoke leaped up. The last morning of his stay was so warm that the troop was lazy and wanted to fly low. Wa-Wa, however, had a surprise for them as a result of his scouting. His first glance over the wheat- field where they fed had detected a disturbed spot. Passing high over this, he saw the upturned brown face and fierce eyes he knew so well. Without a sign of recognition he went back to his troop, ex- plained the novel trap, and then led the way directly over it. Again the twin puffs of smoke sprang up, and Wa-Wa, almost stopping, shouted directly into the barrel, " Hunk ! get hunk hunk ! " That night he led the way northward. The next spring came, and with it Wa-Wa and his new troop. Again he warily scouted, but for a time, search as he might, he could not uncover the ambush which he felt was somewhere below. The spot where the barrel had been he distinctly re- called the wheat was there as usual, but the barrel was not. The only thing worthy of notice 8 Sporting Sketches was a small, thin fringe of dried weeds, which marked a spot where the wheat had failed. Twice Wa-Wa looked at it, then suddenly he remembered that snow always flattens such weeds indeed, all other weeds lay flat. Then his marvellous eye made out the dim outline of a prone figure, which so closely matched the scant cover that no other gander would ever have noticed it. For a moment Wa-Wa was almost frightened. There was something so devil- ishly crafty about the thing that the bare idea of it made him shudder as he swung slowly around it at a safe distance. Presently he detected the slightest of movements and then a glint of red. Instantly his wrath blazed hotly, for there were the well-remem- bered hated eyes, fairly flaming with savage eager- ness. Back to the troop went Wa-Wa. Every member had been told what to expect when they reached the place indeed, the story of Wa-Wa's enemy had been honked and hawked from mouth to mouth from the Arctic to the South. After explaining the situ- ation, Wa-Wa led the way directly over the weeds. Once again the expected smoke arose, but this time the shower of stuff pattered smartly so smartly that one young girl of a goose yelled " Ker-ouch ! " as loud as she could. Bidding the rest go on, Wa-Wa circled and again passed over the weeds. To his amazement, two more puffs of smoke belched up and something whizzed mighty close to his head. " He can shoot more times and farther now," thought Wa-Wa, and with the thought came a decidedly uncomfortable feeling. The next instant he was fu- rious, and he fairly screamed his farewell, " Hunk ! Tbe Witchery of Wa-Wa 9 get hunk hunk!" Then he rejoined the troop and led the way to a field fully a mile distant. " My dear," said his wife, that evening, as they rocked side by side on the baby waves of the little lake, " I don't wish to bother you, or to meddle in any way, yet I would like to ask you a straight question, What's wrong with you to-day ? " By way of answer Wa-Wa hissed savagely and drove his snaky head into a curling ripple. Then he said, " There's nothing particular the matter you wouldn't understand if I told you." " But, my dear ! " she persisted, " there is some- thing the matter. You can't fool me I know you too well. You're crusty and worried and and I believe-it's-all-about-that-man-in-the-field so there ! " Wa-Wa hissed again and his small eyes blazed with fury, but beyond a low rattle in his throat he made no immediate answer. " Don't act so," she continued ; " it's unlike you. Besides, I've really got to speak to you it's been on my mind to do so for some time ; but you've led us so long and so well, dear, that it almost breaks my heart to say it, but I must ! Look out for that man he'll do you an injury yet. Can't you see that he comes nearer and nearer to doing it every time ? Why ! that last time almost lamed Gozzie's wing. It hurt the child and frightened her half to death and you know, dear, such a thing never happened before. I was thinking that p-e-r-h-a-p-s we might go to some other place say the other plains they're just as convenient, and it would io Sporting Sketches be a pleasant change the children have never been there, you know, dear, and " " For wheat's sake, shut up and don't meddle ! You can honk faster than any goose I ever saw ! " roared Wa-Wa, and the wife drifted a yard away, for this was the first time he had showed real temper to her. He was angry, too, for the old gander is lord of the lot and never tolerates the slightest interference. But back of it all lay an uneasy feeling an indefinable dread, which, try as he would, he could not entirely banish. By dawn, however, he was himself again ; but this time he did lead to a spot far to one side of the dangerous weeds, and where there was no cover for hundreds of yards all about. He had not troubled himself to see if the foe was in the hide ; but as all hands swung lazily lakeward, he looked back and distinctly saw the hated form erect above the weeds. That very afternoon he gave the order for the North. ****** The world was white white as the soul of a child. Bells jingled unceasingly, rich robes swept the snow, and big wood sleighs, laden with young fir trees, went groaning along the streets. At the window of a big house, almost buried among huge snow-laden pines, stood a winsome wee lady, looking down the straight path which led to a distant gate. The glow from- a huge open fireplace played upon crimson curtains and brought the dainty figure into sharp relief. Almost childish in stature, it required a second glance to "detect the tiny cap, the silver strands in the wavy black hair, and certain The Witchery of Wa-Wa 11 lines about the mouth which hint where Time marks up his score. She evidently was expecting somebody, and she didn't have long to wait. As she watched, the space above the gate was suddenly filled by a hurdling figure, which flew the trifling barrier as though it were a mere print in the snow, and sped with long leaps along the path. In her excitement she rapped the big pane so hard that it flew into clashing spears ; but that one pane was the only thing of that name in any way con- nected with that particular reunion. " Time ! breakaway ! " he managed to gasp a few moments later, and when he had got free he added solemnly, " Mater, if you persist in hugging and punching when clinched, I'll give you the heel." He towered above her as a greyhound towers above a rabbit, but the Rabbit didn't appear to mind. In fact, it showed a decided tendency to force the fight- ing, fouls and all, but he straightened up, which most effectually prevented the Rabbit's getting its favorite hold. " Think of it whew ! " he presently said ; " this Christmas actually ends the infernal grind, and I can loaf for a year a whole year! if I want to." She said never a word ; her face assumed a comical attempt at sternness, and she held out a wee hand. " Um-er-yes that's so ! " he stammered, as he pretended to fumble in search of the proof that he had been actually doing a trifle of work between athletic events. " There's the condemned thing, and I hope you'll prize it, for the cost has been frightful ! " he con- cluded, with a forced calmness; for he felt like 12 Sporting Sketches yelling, or trying a hitch-kick at the ceiling, or any old thing that would let off steam. After one swift glance, the Rabbit betrayed a sudden fierce deter- mination to mix matters in a final rough-and-tumble, but he side-stepped and repeated his warning. " A prize indeed ! " exclaimed the Rabbit, and, with an arch look, she added: " A prize to the Lady, and a Sir-prize to the Gentleman is but fair. Won't your Majesty enter the Royal Chamber? " " Same as ever, I s'pose ? " he queried, though well he knew that nothing in that room ever was dis- arranged, nor would it be so long as the Rabbit bossed the burrow. " Come, let's go see ! " he suddenly exclaimed, and as he spoke his long arms shot out in a way that only boxing can teach. The terrified Rabbit had been hoping for, yet dread- ing, this very movement; for, womanlike, at that instant, she was wondering if he had forgotten. Not a bit of it ! Up in the air she rose until she was seated on his shoulder ; then all she could do was to bury her small fingers in his thick hair and hang on, quivering a bit, yet glorying in his supple strength. The stairs he found easy, as of yore, and the room precisely as he had left it ; but on the army cot lay a long, narrow, boxlike package. The marks on the package told of a sea-trip, and he promptly got rid of the wrappings. " English oak brass-bound," he muttered. " Must have cost Why! you little dev I mean darling this thing c-c-cost a hundred pounds !" " What of it ? " philosophically remarked the Rab- bit. "This thing that I got cost years of hard work!" The Witchery of Wa-lVa 13 To put it together and swing it a bit occupied only a few moments. Then he knew that some- body had told her the weight, stock, and drop, for these were exactly right. Who had done the telling and ordering he at once guessed, for few men have many such close friends. It was indeed a beauty, and after he had settled for it in the only coin that would pass, he suddenly exclaimed, " Mater mine, won't I do things to old scar-bel I mean Wa-Wa when he comes north ! " " Who's Scarbel, or Wa-Wa ? I thought 'Wa-Wa' was Indian for wild goose Longfellow says so," quoth the Rabbit. For a moment he was too busy pointing the gun the other way to answer, and the dainty weapon shook in a manner which suggested a vast amount of nerve-racking overstudy on his part. Then he pulled himself together and answered with preter- natural gravity : " Anser a goose scarbellerificus buckshoti- cus arcticus etcetereticus a goose of the Arctic, remarkably hard to get. Humanum est errare" he added reflectively. " Oh ! " said the Rabbit. " Listen, Mater," he continued. " For years I've laid for a certain wise old gander on the plains. Every trick I know I have played on that old rascal. Once I hit him, but he was a bit too high I was a poor judge of distance then. Every chance I've had since I've tried for him and failed. He knows me and I know him, but now I'm wiser. I have learned how to ' call ' from a New Brunswick chap, and I can do it well. I'll make and paint a few profiles (decoys, you know), and when Wa-Wa comes, 14 Sporting Sketches with the help of your superb gift I'll get him ! Really, I must get him ! " ****** Two months later the decoys were made and painted. He knew how to paint, and he knew the birds better than most men know them. The pro- files were life-size, of half-inch stuff, and dressed down to a knifelike thinness along all upper edges. Seen from directly above, they were mere sticks upon the ground, but from a distance they were geese, and when set up with one pointing to each quarter, two always were visible. When the birds came back, he was ready, and one night he said, " By-by, little one, I'm off after Wa-Wa." Fully equipped, with the profiles knap- sack-fashion, he started on the long tramp. It was the softest of spring nights. The air was shaken with the peep of hylas and the brazen ripple of frogs. The storm of it before him calmed at his passing and burst anew in his rear. For mile after mile he tramped, till the east flared redly and the breath of the huge open came to him. A pair of blue wings hissed past, and from the darkness came the hoarse queries of black duck, the clearer tone of mallard, and the querulous chatter of pintail. Once, from far away, came a faint honking, and at the sound of it he hastened. To arrange the decoys was a simple task, but as he thrust the last support into the soft wheat-land, his ear caught a mournful " Hunk ! hunk hunk ! " " I'll go a hundred yards below to make sure," he muttered, as he turned to look at the really excellent decoys. Where receding waters had left a stranded Tbe Witchery of Wa-Wa 15 raft of dry weeds, he sat down and waited. The good old pipe kept him content, and he listened to the voices of feathered folk. Ducks of several sorts kept streaming over, heading for distant corn-fields. Then a rasping scaipe! scaipe ! caused him to nod his head knowingly. At last a flash of yellow light gleamed across the level, and black shadows trailed westward from every slight projection. Presently a distant honking, a clamor of many voices, be- trayed the fact that geese had taken wing. He twisted an old corn-tassel into the cross-strings of his cap, tossed a few weeds over the gun-barrels, then laid down and stayed down. He was dressed right and he knew it, so with chin upon hand he lay, his eyes, shadowed by the visor, fixed upon the western sky. Soon a black thread drifted into view and at the first glimpse of it his head sank lower, but his heart beat higher. On and on came the thread, changing to a cord, then to a cable, lastly to a row of big black beads. " Hunk get hunk hunk aw hunk! " he sung out, then snickered to himself. The brazen rasp of it was startlingly correct, and a confident repetition of it caused the flock to head directly for him. Not another sound did he utter, but he lay face down like a dead man, although muscles twitched and his heart thumped audibly. At last, from almost overhead, sounded a suspicious croak and the wiff-wiff of mighty pinions. In an instant he was upon his knees, and the new gun fairly leaped to his shoulder. As he rose, a long line of geese wavered, parted, and the two sections fell away to either side. In 1 6 Sporting Sketches the space left, one remained alone a huge, thick- necked old gander, with a conspicuous white welt across his left breast. The other geese need not have worried. The trim tubes sought the white cravat not forty yards away and swung truly with it. The gander lurched, half turned, and before he could recover, the hail from the second barrel struck him full broadside. He reached the mud with a " whop ! " which might have been heard for half a mile. "Hunk got hunk hunk .'"chuckled the man, as he laid down the gun and started for his prize. Naught cared he for other geese he had got hunk! Three hours later, the little woman watching from the doorway sees again the tall figure at the gate. But such a change ! no flying leap and springy stride this time, for in truth he scarce could have hurdled a match. The drawn, sweat-lined face was gray with weariness, yet the eyes still blazed with the spark of a hard-won triumph. " Well, your gun's a beaut here's old scar-bel I mean Wa-Wa ! " he grunted, as he suffered the great gray form to fall from his aching shoulder to the piazza. " Ugh ! " she gasped in sudden terror, for from the dead throat slipped a hollow croak a wraith of late clarion honking. He well knew 'twas merely air driven by the fall through the great windpipe, yet he glanced curiously at the fowl, then started slightly. As the gander lay, the body and neck were in shadow, the head in full sunlight. In that light, the small, dead eye flamed The Witchery of Wa-Wa 17 like a ruby, and seemed to stare with undying hate and defiance. " That's funny," he muttered. " Guess old scar- bel Nothing! never mind," he hastily added in reply to her questioning glance. Then he gripped the long neck and strode away to illustrate that mis- quotation, " The goose hangs high." TIME EVERY style of fishing has its earnest devotees and its special claim to prominence in the minds of certain men, who are ever ready to maintain the superiority of the branch of the sport they follow. The tarpon fisher considers himself as much above the salmon fisher as the latter holds himself above the man who bothers with sea-trout, or any- thing less noble than salmo salar, and who finds his wand of magic to be a single-handed rod. The slayer of acrobatic ouananiche scorns speckled trout as the true trout fisher pooh-poohs black bass; while the admirers of the big-mouthed, dusky gladi- ator stoutly maintain that he is boldest and best on hook or on board. So it runs downward through the list. The fly-fisher scoffs at squidding, trolling, bait- fishing, spearing, and at anything and everything, save fly-fishing, and still old " Ike " ne'er preached such a creed. There are plenty of enthusiasts who declare that trolling for bluefish in a spanking breeze, or hauling lusty sea-bass by main force from foamy breakers which soak one from sole to crown, are the only styles of fishing- worth following. Others find their keenest excitement in winding a 18 With and ^Against tbe Grains 19 shark ashore with winch and chain tackle ; in loll- ing upon a wharf and taking slimy catfish, or other ignoble prey ; or even in the lawless method of ex- ploding a dynamite cartridge under water and lazily picking up a few of many fish destroyed. I make no attempt to decide the merits of these many opposing claims. Each supporter is partly right and partly wrong. Fishing of any kind (bar- ring the dynamite) is good enough for me, and in my humble opinion, whatever kind fate allows one to enjoy, is, or should be, the best of all while it lasts. One method of fishing, almost invariably sneered at by anglers of high degree, is spring spearing ; yet it frequently affords a deal of fun and requires no small measure of skill on the part of its success- ful votaries. I have heard men who had no aversion to spear- ing through the ice rail against spring spearing as unworthy of any decent man's attention, yet they never mentioned the one good argument, i.e. that the sport encouraged the destruction of fish while on their way to the spawning beds. Undoubtedly spring spearing is not beneficial to the fish speared, nor is the killing of a roe-laden fish on her way to spawn calculated to increase the number of young fry. But the decriers of spearing overlooked this and contented themselves with rash statements to the effect that it required no science and was merely " slopping about " anyway. The true causes of their dislike were, that the successful spearer must travel long distances over wearisome, muddy foot- 20 Sporting Sketches ing ; must frequently wade in cold water and think naught of a ducking, and must be able to handle his grains, or spear, for thrust or throw, as skilfully as a Zulu warrior handles his deadly assegai. Stealing along a trout brook, or fishing from boat or punt, doesn't develop these qualities, and as the swell angler hasn't got them, perforce, in his opin- ion, they are no good. Be that as it may, we of the old restless, rough-and-tumble crowd learned to handle grains before we could cast a fly, and many a day's fun we enjoyed ; for spearing is preemi- nently a sport for country boys and men. When April's tears and smiles prevail against icy fetters and let the prisoned waters run, comes the brief spring season for the grains. On Northern waters the ice is generally rushed away to the lakes by heavy floods, which spread far over the lowlands bordering the streams. For a brief period rivers are many times their normal size; every tributary creek and streamlet is a swollen, discolored contri- bution to the volume of the larger streams, and every ditch is bankful or overflowed. Once the ice is carried off and the outlets are free, the great waterways lower as rapidly as they rose, and all over- flows, and back-waters sweep back to the main chan- nels. Naturally, the waters of the creeks, brooks, and ditches run clear in a short time ; and while a river may be several feet above its average level and as opaque as" pea soup, its tributaries may be pure and transparent as springs. Just after the ice goes and the floods begin to subside, the " run " of fish for "the spawning beds commences. Nets are put into active service in the Witb and .Against the Grains 21 turbid rivers, for clear water is not required for them ; and while the fishermen haul their catches of mullet, pickerel, pike, suckers, etc., would-be grainers keep close watch upon the creeks and ditches. Soon comes the day when the bottoms of creek and ditch may be seen through swift, spar- kling currents, and the word is passed round that " spearin's good." Our favorite game was the pike the mottled, shovel-nosed rascal, called " pickerel " in Jersey and in many other places. I do not claim that our name was correct, but it was used to distinguish the fish from its more valuable relative, the pickerel (as we called it), or dore. The latter fish, the wall-eyed pike, " ran " in great numbers in the rivers and was taken by netting. I never saw one in the smaller streams. Our "pike" were persistent explorers. They ran up-river in schools, and whenever they discovered the current of a creek or ditch pouring in, some of them would leave the main stream and work their way up the tributary as far as they could swim. Hence it was not unusual to find one or more big pike in a flooded furrow half a field away from a main ditch. If the water suddenly lowered, count- less numbers of the fish were sure to be prisoned in ponds and water-holes, where, as all retreat was cut off, they sooner or later perished. They were given to pushing up the creeks to their sources in wet woodlands, where they would wander through shallow, amber-tinted pools for rods on either side of the channels. Here half-submerged logs and fallen stuff afforded 22 Sporting Sketches many places of concealment, and sharp eyes were necessary to discover lurking fish. If one stirred in the shallows, it was easily followed by the ripple it caused on the otherwise dead surface. The fish, as a rule, moved about in pairs, or perhaps three to- gether, after the spawning grounds were reached, and we used to wade in search of them, examining every possible shelter and keeping our eyes open for any ripples. Most of the town and country blacksmiths could tinker a grains with three or more barbed tines, and different styles more or less elaborate were sold by hardware dealers. We favored the three-tined pat- tern, as less liable to make two useless fragments out of a good fish too roughly struck. Many of the young fellows prided themselves upon their skill in throwing the grains a la spear, and a few, myself included, after breaking a tine, would file off the stump and the opposing tine and spear away like good 'uns with the centre double-barbed point. The length of handle for the grains varied greatly. Some were fourteen to eighteen feet long and correspondingly heavy and clumsy. The " old heads " favored these and did good work with them, too, but we would have none of them. We didn't care a button for the fish secured : we wanted sport and to throw the grains at every opportunity, so we secured handy sticks from eight to twelve feet long. To such short staffs a cord was frequently fixed to aid recovery when thrown into a broad, rapid current ; but the simplest method was to throw the spear anyway, and then to walk" right into the water after it, in case it could not otherwise be recovered. With and *A gainst tbe Grains 23 More than once I have seen a grains thrown recklessly at a fish a dozen yards from the bank of the swollen, ice-cold river, and as it floated with the current its owner would have no choice but to plunge in and secure it with as little tarrying and as few strokes as the law allowed. Whether he lost his grains by funking a frigid swim, or regained it by a fearless dash, we guyed him just the same, and his best policy was to grapple somebody whose rai- ment was dry and strive to get warmed up in the struggle the dry one was certain to make to get away from the damp embrace. Among the devotees of pike spearing two meth- ods were popular : One was to lie in wait where the clear current of an outflow joined the turbid main stream, or upon a fallen tree or bridge, and spear the fish with long-handled grains as they passed, bound upstream. This method was popular with the veterans. It was restful and not necessarily a dirty or wet procedure, and the watcher had chances at all fish that sought that stream while he was on deck. It had disadvantages, inasmuch as the run of fish was always uncertain, and a man might watch for hours in vain. All fish already past that point were lost as far as that grains was concerned ; and while there was nothing doing at the outlet, there might be rare fun farther above and at the headwaters. At such ambushes the spearing could also be done at night if a fire could be built so as to cast a strong light on the water, or if the grainer had a lantern equipped with a good reflector. The second method offered the most variety, and appealed to the restless ones. This was to follow 24 Sporting Sketches the windings of the water for miles, taking mud and slop as they came, to wade when needful, to get wet and outrageously dirty as a matter of course, and to finish off with wading through the headwaters and tramping home as best one could. The shorter grains, easy to throw, were most serviceable for this work. By following the stream thoroughly, one stood a chance to find all fish that had passed up, and a miss with the grains might be rectified later on, for a missed fish was certain to go upstream, and might be overtaken and tried again if it kept to the channel. The best costume for this method was the oldest and most useless clothes one possessed, for the man who couldn't afford to get covered with mud was safest at home. Many grainers wore long rubber waders, but the value of these was doubtful. One was almost certain to fall over or off of something ere the trip was done, and waders wet inside are an abomination. Besides, they are unpleasant things to walk across country in during a return tramp. I used to rig my feet with old stout boots, with enough cracks in them to let water run in or out at will. Any kind of ancient trousers was good enough, and a pair of strong leggins amply protected the shins. Thus equipped, I would walk into the first water I reached, to get wet and be done with it. After that it was easy to take what came, and if one slipped and fell into the mud, a wade through deep enough water fixed matters first rate. For carrying the fish, we invariably used a long- ish supple switch, with a short stub left near the lower end to keep the first fish put on from slipping With and