So much attention has been paid during the last few years to the increase and protection of salmon in Canada and New Brunswick, that the Nipisiquit, which was once one of the best rivers, has fallen into a second rank; not that it has deteriorated, but because others have improved. Privileges are allowed to single rods at so much a day for the fishing, which is generally hired by the firm I have mentioned in Bathurst, but before going, the sportsman had better communicate with the Department at Ottawa, as leases are continually being changed.
CHAPTER VII.
WHITE TROUT OF THE SCOODIAC, OR ST. CROIX.
I am unable to give a scientific description of these beautiful and delicious fish, and believe they have never been properly described. They however closely resemble a dwarfed salmon, and have been supposed to be these fish landlocked, prevented, by a natural or artificial obstruction, from completing their annual migrations to and from the sea. The better opinion, however, is that they are a distinct fish, and the color of their sides naturally suggests the above appellation, although they have no popular name. The name Scoodic is applied generally to the St. Croix River, its lakes and tributaries, and in Maine they are known as the St. Croix Trout, in New Brunswick as the Scoodic Trout, while Mr. Perley suggests that they may be the Grey Trout.
They are, however, extremely tame and numerous, take the fly readily, afford excellent sport, and delicious eating. They weigh from one pound to four, and may be taken in hundreds. The season commences about the first of June, and lasts throughout that month, and the best flies are the gay ones, composed mainly of feathers from the golden pheasant. The scarlet ibis and Irish lake flies are prime favorites.
The steamer of the International Line, from Boston or Portland, connects at Eastport with a river boat for Calais, whence there is a railroad to Lewis’ Island. From Lewis’ Island it is nine miles to the fishing-ground, six of which are by water and three by land. A man named Goole will take the baggage over the portage, and the best fishing is above the Grand Falls, between the first two lakes. Inquiries must be made at the time about the necessity of carrying the canoe across the portage, as often no canoe can be obtained at the fishing-ground. Of course the angler must expect to camp out, and will provide himself accordingly.
Since the above short article was written, these fish under the name of land-locked salmon, or Winnonish of the Indians, have received much attention. Raised artificially in large numbers, they have been distributed through many waters of the United States, but do not seem to take well to their new homes. They have been domesticated at the New York State hatchery, but nowhere can they be said to furnish wild fishing, except in their original habitat, St. Croix and Sebago lakes and streams.
CHAPTER VIII.
WHITE-FISH.
Coregonus Albus—Attihawmeg.—Although included in the salmon family by having the second dorsal adipose, and the fin-rays soft, this fish differs totally from either the trout or salmon. It has minute velvet-like teeth, scarcely perceptible to the touch, except on the gill-arches, where there is a row of long and slim ones, like bristles; the scales are large and the body compressed like that of a shad, and it has been called the Fresh-water Shad. The mouth is very small, utterly unsuited for seizing the prey on which the trout and salmon feed; the color of the back is greyish blue, and the sides white.
Fin-rays, D. 13.0; P. 17; V. 12; A. 13; C. 19-6/6, the second dorsal being adipose.
The proper appellation for this fish is the Indian name, Attihawmeg, and if sportsmen would in all cases follow the names used by the aborigines they would show more sense than the common people of our country, who think every fish with a spiny back fin must be a bass, and every other a trout. The Attihawmeg abounds in Lake Huron, where it attains a weight of twelve to fourteen pounds, and is tolerably abundant in Lakes Erie, Ontario and Michigan. It feeds on mussels and shellfish, or on aquatic plants, and is usually taken in nets. The general opinion is that it will take no bait, natural or artificial; but it might be tempted by the artificial fly, or perhaps the cray-fish. It is the finest fresh-water fish of America upon the table, having no rival that approaches it in excellence except the Otsego bass. But being extremely delicate, it should be eaten immediately on leaving the water, and is never in condition in the cities. If it has been frozen, as is always the case in Winter, the Attihawmeg is utterly worthless. It is unsurpassable split and broiled, very similar in appearance and flavor, only much superior to the shad. It is not properly a game fish, whatever may be thought of its delicacy of taste and appearance, but a description of it is necessary to complete the series and to distinguish it from certain others.
To take it, however, as the Indians do in the Sault Ste. Marie, with long-handled scoop-nets, amid the roar and rush of the seething waters is no mean sport, and requires a readiness of hand, sharpness of eye, and steadiness of foot possessed by few men. Its artificial culture has been made a matter of special concern in the States bordering on the great lakes.
CHAPTER IX.
CISCO.
I record a description of this fish for the purpose of calling to it the attention of those who have the requisite knowledge to determine what it is, and beg naturalists, if it is still undescribed, to leave it its own pretty, original name. It inhabits Lake Ontario, near its outlet into the St. Lawrence, and is taken in the neighborhood of Cape Vincent. It is one of the Coregonus group, but neither the White-fish, Attihawmeg, Coregonus albus, nor the Otsego Bass, Coregonus Otsego. It may be related to the Coregonus clupeiformis, although differing much from the meagre description of the latter in the accounts copied one from another, of Dr. Mitchill, Lesueur, and Dr. De Kay.
The Cisco is not so compressed nor deep as the white-fish; the teeth are more delicate and velvety, and in the gill arches are a few long, distinct, slim teeth or bristles. The mouth is smaller than that of the white-fish, and when open, perfectly square. The scales are similar to those on the latter, but the tail is so delicate as to make counting the rays mere guesswork; the point of the tongue is hard, the back colored green, the sides silver white, while the first ray of the pectoral, ventral and anal fins is darkish. The first dorsal has ten soft rays, the second is adipose; the pectoral has fourteen soft rays, the ventral eleven, the anal twelve, and the caudal, as well as I could count them, fourteen. It is a very beautiful and delicate fish, more so even than the white-fish.
The cisco is taken at Cape Vincent, with the eel-fly baited on a small hook and dibbled along the top of the water, and is said not to notice any artificial fly. I unfortunately had no chance to try, though I saw them rising and taking the natural fly readily. They do not rise with the rush of a salmon or trout, never springing out of water, and simply show their heads as they seize their prey. The eel-fly is a fat and sluggish fly, and it may be that the fish rising slowly, as they naturally do, would discover the deception even if an imitation eel-fly were offered to them. This fly, as I have elsewhere observed, is similar, both in appearance and habits, to the famous European May-fly.
The fish known as the lake herring, salmo clupeiformis, although very similar in appearance, has certain distinctive characteristics; for instance, there are minute teeth on the tongue, and the fin-rays, as I make them, are—
D. 12; P. 16; V. 11; A. 11; C. 19-5/5; B. 9.
According to Lesueur—
D. 12; P. 16; V. 12; A. 14; C. 19-5/5.
In the lake herring I also found the first ray of the dorsal the longest, although Lesueur says it is simple and short; the tail is deeply forked. The dorsal terminates nearly opposite the ventrals, and the second dorsal is opposite the centre of the anal.
CHAPTER X.
OTSEGO BASS.
Coregonus Otsego.—This fish must be carefully distinguished from the Oswego Bass, there being no resemblance except in the stupidity of confounding by name one of the perch family, to which the latter belongs, with one of the salmon family, to which this belongs. The Otsego Bass is closely allied to the white-fish, but has numerous dusky longitudinal lines on the sides. Its mouth and scales are small, and it appears to have no teeth except the bristles on the gill-arches. The lateral line is nearly straight, and the tail is deeply forked. The back is a rich blue, fading into green, the sides brilliant with mother of pearl, and the belly gleaming like molten silver. The rays are as follows:
Br. 9; D. 13; P. 17; V. 11; A. 11; C. 22.
The second back fin, as in all the salmon tribe, is adipose and rayless.
These fish have as yet only been found in Otsego Lake, where they are rapidly diminishing in size and numbers. They are not known to take any bait, and are presumed to feed on aquatic vegetation. Early in spring they seek the shallow water for a few days, when they are taken in nets; but shortly retiring to the deepest water, they remain till Autumn, when they again seek the shores to spawn. They never exceed four pounds, and rarely two, and though undesirable on table, are not a sportsman’s fish, and have been described only that they may be distinguished from other species.
The general opinion now is that the Otsego bass is the white-fish, improved by purity of water. To test this, large numbers of the latter have been deposited in Otsego Lake under the direction of certain public spirited citizens.
CHAPTER XI.
THE BLUE-FISH.
Temnodon Saltator—Scomber Plumbeus (Mitchill)—Horse Mackerel—Green-fish of Virginia—Skipjack of South Carolina.
This fish belongs to the mackerel family; it has projecting teeth in the fore part of the jaws, and velvety teeth on the roof of the mouth and tongue. The first dorsal lies in a furrow, and there are two minute spines concealed under the skin before the anal. The scales extend over the head, gill-covers and high on the fins; the back is bluish-green, and the sides and abdomen lighter; the pectorals, second dorsal and tail are greenish-brown, while the ventrals and anal are white, tinged with blue. The gill-cover has two indistinct flat points. The fin-rays are as follows, the spines being distinguished from the soft rays.
D. 7.1.25; P. 17; V. 1.5; A. 1.27; C. 19-3/2
These fish furnish one of the most remarkable instances of the appearance and disappearance of species on our coast. As in our day, with the Spanish mackerel, that darling of the gourmand, so in former times, the blue-fish appeared suddenly. He was first seen on the coast of Massachusetts in 1764, and then not again till 1792; and it is only since the year 1830 that he has been abundant. He seems to have superseded another and larger fish of the same name, and as his numbers augment, those of the weak-fish, otolithus regatis, diminish. The blue-fish has singular vagaries, sometimes crowding every inlet in swarms, and then deserting us altogether, visiting in one season one locality and in the next another, but ordinarily frequenting our entire coast north to Massachusetts.
They afford excellent sport on a rod and line, being among the strongest and boldest of their kind, taking the fly readily, and making fierce and well-sustained rushes; but from the localities they usually frequent, they are mostly taken with a hand-line from a sailboat. An artificial squid of bone, ivory or lead, is trailed along at the end of forty yards of stout line, from a boat dancing merrily over the waves under the influence of a fresh mackerel breeze. The boatman’s business is to watch for a shoal, which can be seen by their breaking, and when he has found it, by repeated tacks to keep the boat in or near it; the fisherman’s duty is to haul in steadily and regularly immediately on feeling a bite, and to get out his line again as soon as possible. The fish dart forward, and throwing themselves out of water, turn a complete somersault, when, if the line is not taught, they will throw the hook out of their mouths. The dashing of the waves and flying of the spray, the rapid exhilarating motion of the vessel, the fresh sea-breeze, the rapid biting and fine play of the fish, make a day pass pleasantly if they do not afford scientific sport.
Blue-fish attain a weight of thirty pounds, and the largest being usually taken outside the bars, beyond the breakers, are a source of much amusement to our yachtsmen; but the arms of the fisherman soon weary, and their hands, unless protected by leather gloves, are often seriously lacerated. The fishing can hardly be said to begin till July, and continues till late in the Autumn; the smaller fish are taken early.
If cooked when just out of their native element, these fish are excellent, but they soon lose their flavor. They should be broiled, or split and nailed on a shingle and roasted quickly before a hot fire.
Undoubtedly they could be taken with the trolling spoon, and a stout leader of double gut running on swivel traces attached to a dark hand-line would add greatly to the success. In fact, like all other fish, at times they are shy and must be fished for with fine tackle, and then the rod and line come into play. In fishing with a rod from a sailboat, the moment a fish is struck the sheet is eased off, the boat run up into the wind, and the fish killed at leisure; if the boat were kept in motion, the strain would be too great for the rod and reel.
One of the favorite haunts of blue-fish, although they frequent the entire length and breadth of the Great South Bay of Long Island, is Fire Island Inlet; and there, of a bright summer day, may be seen congregated the white sails of fifty boats tossing about in the roll of the breakers, clustering together as the shoals collect, or scattering far out to sea in the hopes of better luck. There, when the wind blows, they may be seen under double reef, plunging along, throwing the spray from their bows, or, if a milder day, under full sail, generally a single one, sweeping over the quiet waters. Moderate weather is the best, and it is no use fishing unless the fish are on, which means that their visits are variable. At midday, when they generally cease biting, the adventurous fisherman may land on Raccoon Beach, immortalized by the genial wit of J. Cypress, jr., and either cook his fish by a fire built from the waifs of the sea, which I decidedly recommend, or get a fashionable dinner from Dominy or “t’other man” that keeps a hotel there.[14] At this time it will be found, and I note the fact for the benefit of future generations, that a little liquor containing condensed carbonic acid gas and vulgarly called champagne, with water reduced to the temperature of freezing and commonly called ice, will be pleasing to the palate and beneficial to the inner man. In explanation of this episode, I may say I have just been there.
CHAPTER XII.
SNAPPING MACKEREL.
Temnodon Saltator.—One of the gayest, merriest, liveliest, little fish that chases and devours those smaller than himself, and is chased and devoured by such as are larger, is the Snapping Mackerel, the young of the previous species, but individualized from the voracity with which he snaps at the live or dead bait. He is a beautiful, silver-sided little fellow, weighing from an ounce to half a pound, and makes his appearance in immense numbers along our coast in the latter part of September or fore part of October.
Whither he goes,
Nobody cares
And nobody knows.”
He must have just arrived, however, from the parents’ spawning ground, his diminutive size proving that he has not been long out of the shell. He roams about, at first in small numbers, but soon increasing to multitudes, and gives active chase to the minnow and spearing, that may be seen momentarily springing out of water in their frantic efforts to escape his charges. He lurks in the foaming water of a mill-tail or sluiceway, or in the eddying current of the receding tide, watching for his prey as they swim or are drifted along unsuspiciously. He makes one dash, a dozen startled spearing leap into the air, and swim for dear life; but the victim is generally carried off, a dainty and epicurean meal.
Spearing invariably swim near the surface; they haunt the gates of tide-mills when the tide is rising, and are drifted in with the current when the gates open before the advancing waters. The snappers take the opportunity, not merely to plunge among the shoals before the gates lift, but afterward, when the spearing, who are helpless in a strong current, are swept along, to pounce upon them.
Of course in such places they can be captured with most success. When they first make their appearance, not longer than your forefinger, but tender and delicate beyond belief, they may be found at low water in the rivulets of white froth that run bubbling from holes and leaks in the mill-gates. The best mode of taking them at this time, for they are small and fastidious, is with a salmon-rod and a tiny spearing on a Limerick hook; by making casts and drawing the bait along the surface of the water and through the frothy eddies, the young innocents are deceived, and thinking to prey upon their weaker brethren, become themselves a palatable viand for larger creatures. They break like trout, without throwing themselves out of water, but with a noisy snap, and if they miss the bait at first, will follow it resolutely. It is no mean sport to stand upon the old worm-eaten, weather-stained bridge, and wield the long rod, playing your allurement over the water to the music of the rushing current and the steady clack of the mill-wheel, and see one after another of the green-backed, silvery snappers dart from under the accumulated froth, chase and swallow your bait, and no slight satisfaction to observe the increasing number in your basket, and think of how your friends will enjoy their supper that night.
There is one singular fact to be observed, that whereas blue-fish invariably take the invitation squid, or artificial fly, with voracity, the snapping mackerel, except in the South Bay of Long Island, can rarely be tempted by it. In Long Island Sound I have failed with the fly and the spoon entirely, and have found the gutta percha minnow to work only passably, whereas in the South Bay they are taken readily with a leaden squid, of a peculiar shape, run on a large hook and polished bright.
The spearing is their favorite food, but the extreme sensitiveness of that remarkable little fish, that renders keeping him alive impossible, injures the attractiveness of the bait. As has been elsewhere observed, when small fish are used, it is desirable to keep them alive if possible, and the snappers will often give the preference to a lively killey, that by his efforts to escape incites the eagerness of their pursuit, over a dead spearing, that by his peculiar manner of resting in the water arouses their suspicions.
As the season advances, the fish are found in all rapid currents of the salt water, and the barred killey is by far the most killing bait. The best way of rigging your tackle is to have a small float and light swivel sinker, below which there is a short leader of gut. The latter is fastened to the middle of a piece of whalebone or wire about two inches long, to each end of which the hook, dressed on gut, is attached. As the teeth of these voracious fish are sharp, and after being hooked they snap continually, the silk whipping of the hook, as well as the gut itself, is soon bitten through. Either a small quill may be slipped down over the hook before it is attached, and into this the teeth sink without damage, or care must be taken to put a couple of half hitches with the snell over the shank, as the whipping wears out.
A light rod and reel are necessary for this sport, and there is the same skill and excitement in the repeated casts that lend to striped bass fishing one of its peculiar charms. The morning hours, the last of the ebb and first of the flood, are the most propitious times; but as the Fall advances, any hour, tide or place will furnish sport in abundance.
I was once fishing with a friend whose experience is greater with the pencil than the rod, on one of those glorious evenings of what might be properly styled in our country “fiery brown October,” and our success made us unmindful of the fleeting hours that had bid the sun farewell and welcomed the moon from her bed. Cramped as we had been in a cockle-shell of a boat, we had taken one of the thwarts and the oars, and placing them across the gunwale, had made two high but dangerous seats. The boat was extremely unsteady, and many and solemn had been my unheeded warnings to move as little as possible, and to exercise care in whatever motions were unavoidably necessary. The fish were out in force, and seized our bait frantically the instant it touched waves, over which the moonlight glanced in tiny ripples. A northeaster had been blowing, but, dying away, left only a long, heaving swell, that was broken by neighboring projecting rocks, and in no wise added to the steadiness of the boat. Our eagerness increased with the increasing darkness, and when unable longer to see our floats, we cast out and reeled in, finding generally a worthy reward for our pains. The fun grew fast and faster; at one particular place we were always sure of a fish. To reach it was a long cast, and my friend, in an effort to excel himself, leaned back for a vigorous throw, lost his balance, and toppled overboard. His weight, as he went on one side, careened the boat, threw me down to leeward, and let the water pour in over the gunwale in barrels. Down almost under water I saw the other gunwale turned up and nearly over me, when my friend, falling headlong out, gave the boat a lift, of which I took advantage by getting back amidships pretty well ducked, but not yet cast away. The water was nearly up to the seats, but by careful balancing, I could keep her afloat. Imagine my horror when my friend reappeared from the oozy depths to which he had descended, and commenced madly trying to clamber over the side. I begged and besought him to think of what he was doing; that I was still partially dry; that my watch was a patent lever; that I had a family of small children; and that the boat would never, in her present state, hold us both. Reluctantly he listened to reason, and allowed me to bail her out with a bucket we had provided to carry our fish. As I threw out the water I could just see with deep regret, in the moonlight, the sparkle of fish after fish that I was unavoidably throwing away, and that I hoped would have served so different a purpose. She was finally freed of water; hats, oars and rod were picked up, the latter by means of the float that was calmly fishing all by itself; my friend, who had swam to and was shivering on a neighboring rock, was taken aboard, and we returned, solemn and sad, my friend very cold and myself greatly disgusted.
In fishing, therefore, for snappers, it is better not to fall overboard; but if, by your awkwardness of doing so, you half fill the boat, never try to climb in over the side, but sacrifice yourself bravely. We were using on this occasion a bait that, late in the season, is often more successful than any other—a part of the fish himself. This, in the early fishing, they will not touch; but in cold weather, frequently prefer.
It is a singular fact, that although blue-fish have always abounded in the Great South Bay, snapping mackerel were unknown there till lately; whereas, while the latter have been abundant in Long Island Sound from time immemorial, the former have never been taken there to any great extent.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE COMMON CARP.
Cyprinus Carpio.—This, as well as the goldfish, Cyprinus auratus, is not a native of our country, but has been introduced from Europe, and naturalists have supposed that there is no native carp of any size in this country. I have seen a fish called the Western Carp, which, although I had no chance to more than sketch its head, was certainly a true carp, and of four or five pounds weight. It had large scales, and all the fin-rays soft, except the first anal, which was robust.
The common carp, which has increased with amazing rapidity till it is found everywhere in the Hudson River, has a small mouth, fleshy lips without teeth, large scales, three branchial rays and teeth on the pharyngeals; has the first ray of the dorsal and anal fin serrated behind, has two barbels at the angle of the mouth, and a smaller one above on each side, small eyes, large nostrils, a high back and radiating striæ on the gill-cover. The color is a golden olive, lighter underneath.
These delicate fish, having become acclimated, and finding the Hudson River suitable to their wants, are increasing rapidly in size and numbers; but none that I have seen equal the western carp or are properly game fish.
CHAPTER XIV.
MASCALLONGE.
Esox Estor—Masqueallongé—Muskellunge—Muscalinga—Masquinongy—Maskinonge—Muscanonga.
The sides of the body are marked with numerous rounded, distinct greyish spots. Three bands of card-like teeth are situated on the roof of the mouth, on the palatines and vomer, converging to a point toward the snout. There are long, sharp, distinct teeth along the edges of the upper and lower jaw, and continued to the extremity of the latter, although some authorities assert the contrary. The gill-arches are also covered with teeth. Mascallonge reach a length of about six feet and a weight of seventy pounds, and the comparative length of the head with the whole fish is as one to four. The fin-rays are as follows:
Branchial or gill-rays 20; Dorsal 18; Pectoral 16; Ventral 11; Anal 17; Caudal 24; according to my best computation.
Br. 18; D. 21; P. 13; V. 11; A. 21; C. 19-7/7.—Dr. De Kay.
D. 21; P. 14; V. 11; A. 17; C. 26.—Dr. Mitchill.
D. 22; P. 18; V. 13; A. 20; C. 26.—Prof. Agassiz.
The lateral line is not continuous, the under jaw is more elongated than that of the northern pickerel and some fish have on their sides dark spots on a light greyish ground.
The name of this fish is derived from Masque allongé, long snout, which is a translation from the Canadian Indian dialect, of Masca-nonga, words which have the same signification; and from corruptions of these two designations arise our numerous names. I took great pains to ascertain precisely how the Canadian boatmen, who are a cross of the Indian and Frenchman, pronounced this name, although, in their French patois, he is ordinarily called Brochat, and the best my ears could make of it was Mas- or Muscallung, the latter syllable being guttural. But as the most sonorous, expressive and appropriate name is Mascallonge, it is desirable that all sportsmen should employ it.
There is a dispute as to the size and weight that these fish attain, and while some writers claim for them a fabulous size, others entirely underrate them. Mr. S. D. Johnston, the proprietor of the Walton House, at Clayton, a son of Mr. Johnston, who was a prominent man in the Canadian rebellion, and for many years forced to hide among the Thousand Isles and live by his hook and spear, said that the largest fish he ever saw was taken by his father, who, in one night, speared two Mascallonge weighing respectively sixty-three and forty-two pounds. There is plenty of authority to prove that there was taken near Clayton, in the year 1859, a mascallonge that measured five feet seven inches in length, and weighed fifty-one and three-quarter pounds, that it was poor and thin, and in good condition would probably have weighed over sixty pounds. One fisherman caught in a single year twelve mascallonge, ranging from twenty-one to forty-four pounds. Larger fish and far greater numbers may perhaps be taken in wilder waters, and, indeed, in some of the lakes in the remote parts of Canada these fish are innumerable.
Their length, proportionally to their weight, is, in consequence of their peculiar shape, excessive; a fish of twenty-five pounds’ weight will measure forty-six inches in length by six in depth, and a fish of seventy pounds it is presumed would be over six feet in length. Although this is not quite equal to the great pike of Pliny, that weighed a thousand pounds, and was drawn out by a pair of oxen, and caught on a hook attached to an ox chain, it must be regarded by the most fastidious as respectable for the present degenerate days. If the accounts we receive are reliable, the pike of Europe, of which the old song erroneously says:
Came into England all in one year,”
vastly surpass ours in size, a fish being taken in a pond near Stockholm with a brass ring round his neck, having an inscription to the effect that he had been put into the pond by the hands of Frederick the Second in 1230, or 267 years before. He weighed 350 pounds, and measured fifteen feet, and his skeleton was a long time preserved at Manheim. The ring was arranged with springs so as to enlarge as he grew. The Shannon is said to have produced a pike of ninety-two pounds, and Lock Spey one of one hundred and forty-six; but, when reading of these accounts, I feel like the Yankee, who, when boasting of his great country, and especially its great cataract, was somewhat taken aback by being told his land produced no volcanoes, nothing to equal Vesuvius or Etna, but who, after thinking a moment, replied: “That was true those were big fires, but he guessed Niagara had water enough to put them all out.” So I think our mascallonge could eat up the biggest pike Europe can produce; and it will be a pity if, when our country is as old as Europe, we cannot tell as extensive stories. [15]
CHAPTER XV.
PICKEREL.
In some remarkable and incomprehensible manner the good old name of Pike has fallen into disuse, and is now applied in this country to a fish that is not a pike at all, but a perch, Lucio perca, the Pike Perch, Big-eyed Pike, or Glass Eye of the Lakes; while the name Pickerel, which is merely the diminutive of Pike, is appropriated to the most gigantic and ferocious monsters of the deep. There is no fish whose appearance is more appalling, and whose appetite is more ravenous than the Great Northern Pickerel, which is alleged to attain a weight of twenty pounds, and which, in its fury, will pounce upon and swallow almost any small moving object. Nor does it much surpass the common pickerel of our ponds, which has very similar habits, and sometimes weighs as high as ten pounds.
The pickerel family, like most of the fish of America, have never been properly classified by the scientific, nor named by the vulgar. In fact, they, with the exception of the mascallonge, appear to have no specific names in common parlance, while naturalists have vague or no acquaintance with their peculiarities. Sportsmen and others speak of catching pickerel, whether it be in the St. Lawrence, Great Northern Pickerel, which seem to
have had no scientific designation till named by Agassiz Esox Lucioides or on Long Island, Esox Fasciatus, or on our principal inland waters, Esox Reticulatus, or in some of the lakes of the Eastern States, where a fish is caught, of which Dr. De Kay, in his “Natural History of New York,” doubts the existence, and which Dr. Mitchill has dubbed the Federation Pike, Esox Tredecemradiatus. In truth, the distinction between the Mascallonge and the Great Northern Pickerel is scarcely visible even to the eye of science, and to the unlearned is marked only by a slight difference in the shape of the head and the coloring of the sides. The light tint is yellow in the pickerel and white in the mascallonge, while in the latter at times the sides have dark spots on a white ground instead of the dark network of the pickerel. It has even been doubted whether these fish are not identical, and the differences of size and color produced by local habits; but the views of all practical fishermen lean the other way, and they can at once distinguish the smallest mascallonge from the largest pickerel, although they are unable to point out the precise distinctive characteristics; while scientific men do make out that there is a difference in the number of the fin-rays. For the latter, however, although I have given the most careful attention that could be expected from an amateur, my enumeration differs from that of all others as they differ among themselves. My computation of the fin-rays gave—
Dorsal 18; Pectoral 16; Ventral 11; Anal 17; Caudal 24.
While according to Dr. Mitchill they were respectively, D. 21; P. 14; V. 11; A. 17; C. 26.
And according to Dr. De Kay—
D. 21; P. 13; V. 11; A. 21; C. 19-7/7.
And according to Professor Agassiz—
D. 22; P. 18; V. 13; A. 20; C. 26.
This, goes to show that either it is very difficult to count the fin-rays, or that they differ; to the latter of which suppositions my belief inclines, as I think the older the fish the more fin-rays are formed, or so hardened as to be perceptible.
The habits of this class of fish are as similar as their appearance, and whether you capture a tiny pickerel with your fly in some shallow Long Island water, or entrap the huge mascallonge with a treble hook half concealed beneath red flannel and shining tin, they rush with the same eagerness and grasp with the same determination. I amused myself one evening on Long Island in casting over a newly-made shallow pond with my ordinary trout cast of flies, and seeing the ferocity with which pickerel, varying from four to nine inches in length, would dart upon their anticipated prey.
All pickerel inhabit sluggish water, and abound among the long, grassy pickerel weed that thrives upon a muddy bottom. The St. Lawrence, where it winds amid the beautiful Thousand Isles and forms innumerable deep and quiet bays, is their favorite home. The water, flowing from the immense lakes and holding suspended the seeds of aquatic plants, is favorable to the growth of the pickerel weed, and is in every way suitable to the fish themselves. The latter, however, have great power, and can unquestionably stem a strong current, for no doubt they ascend the rapids of that mighty river, being found in the eddies; but they prefer quiet water, where they can lurk among the weeds, watching stealthily for their prey, or bask near the surface in the warm summer sun. Both mascallonge and pickerel abound in the innumerable lakes of Lower Canada, and are so abundant in addition to being almost tasteless, as to be unsalable for food.
In other waters pickerel are found in the summer months among the lily-pads, often in water scarcely deep enough to cover their backs. The federation pike I have never taken, except in some of the remote ponds of the wild woods of Cape Cod, near Sandwich and Wareham, especially in the Little Herring Pond. And although at the time I had no knowledge of the scientific distinctions of fish, I at once recognized the description which I saw for the first time afterward, but had often sought in vain among our works on ichthyology. All the pickerel family are readily distinguishable by their having but one dorsal, and that opposite the anal fin and near the tail, and the sportsman acquainted with one will readily recognize all the tribe.
There are many ways of capturing this fish, and he is not the least particular if he is offered anything that has the semblance of food. He may be trolled for with dead bait, generally a minnow, or better, a yellow perch, on a gang of hooks, or fished for with a live bait and a float, and he will readily take a frog, provided the latter shall not, as described in the “Angler’s Miseries,” have the intelligence to creep out upon a stone and watch the fisherman, while the latter watches his float; but the true way in open water is to fish for him with a spoon. The last is objected to as being too destructive; but as it is clean, requires no bait, and is little trouble, and as the fish are utterly worthless either for sport or the table, the sooner they are destroyed and replaced by nobler substitutes the better.
Among the water-lilies the only mode is to use a long, stiff rod and short line, loaded with one buck-shot about a foot from the hook, and baited either with a minnow, the belly of a yellow perch, or better than all, a slip of the skin of pork cut into something resembling a small fish. The latter never wears out, and can hardly be torn off, while it often is preferred to more natural food. The bait is dropped into the opening among the lily-pads, and sinking rapidly, by the weight of the shot, toward the bottom, is started up again by a twitch of the rod, and goes bobbing up and down till the pickerel, rendered frantic by such an absurd performance, can stand it no longer, and with one furious rush determines to end the gyrations of such a silly creature. Never wait for pickerel to gorge the bait, discard such old fogy notions, and by the aid of a strong rod and line, pull him out at once. At least one-half the time fish eject the bait instead of swallowing it, and no one who has ever eaten pork can question their taste. Waiting five or ten minutes, or till they make two or three runs, will not do in our rapid country. I have seen fish that were corpulent with over-feeding, and surrounded by their favorite food, young herring, taken by a piece of themselves being spun in this manner, when they would touch no other bait.
But the most wonderful mode of all is that practised in the St. Lawrence, and generally among the larger waters of Canada and the northern States. The fisherman places himself in the stern of a light canoe-shaped boat, with his face forward, the oarsman sits near the bows, of course facing aft; on each side of the fisherman are pegs like row-locks, or grooves, in the gunwale, with corresponding round holes in the stretchers on the opposite sides; two short, stiff rods are laid across the boat, projecting on each side like wings, kept in their places by the pegs, and their buts supported by the holes. A long line is let out from each rod, say forty yards, armed with a spoon bait; while the fisherman holds an ordinary trolling-line in his hand, and is thus rowed about till either he, or more frequently his oarsman, perceives from the bending of the rod that he has a bite, or he feels a dead drag on his hand-line. If it falls to the share of the rod, he takes the latter up, ends it round till he can reach the line, when he pulls the fish in by hand. If he uses a reel, it is a good plan to take one or two turns of the line round it, so that it will just render. By so doing he might save the rod from breaking, which would be apt to happen with a heavy fish. Mascallonge invariably stop perfectly still when struck.
In landing a fish by hand, which is always the preferable mode, the reel only being used for an emergency, hold the line very lightly between your fingers and give to every jerk or rush. Innumerable large fish are lost by an endeavor to pull them in by force, and I have seen men, with their hands cut by the line, complaining that they had lost a mascallonge of forty pounds. Pickerel never make many nor long-sustained rushes, but they give powerful jerks and flounces that, if resisted, will tear out or break any hook; otherwise, they can ordinarily be drawn through, or more properly over, the water like a wet rag. The person who pulls them in as though it was a question of strength between him and the fish, deserves to lose them and have his fingers cut besides. The moment, however, the fish is at the side of the skiff, he should be either gaffed or lifted over the gunwale at once, as more are lost then than at any other time. Their jaws are mere skin and bone, the skin tearing away at once, and the bone forming no substance in which the hook can imbed itself, the latter sometimes slips out or more frequently is broken off. If you value your fingers, never put them in a pickerel’s mouth or gills, which are armed with innumerable sharp and even venomous teeth. The best weather for trolling is a light, southwesterly breeze, and in large and deep waters a bright sky; in a heavy wind, it is impossible to manage the boat.
The hook should always be on wire or gimp, the former preferable as the latter is so rarely what it professes to be, and of course should be attached to the line by not less than two swivels. The best spoon is the so-called Buel’s patent, with three hooks, either in one piece, or soldered firmly together, and a small elliptical piece of tin, copper or brass, made to revolve round them by means of a shoulder on the shank. This may be tin on one side and red on the other, or copper and brass, or copper or brass alone, to suit the angler’s fancy, and the shank of the hooks is wound with scarlet flannel, or covered with the ibis feather, or left uncovered, as experience shall dictate. Bright spoons are preferable on dark days, and for mascallonge the oldest and most successful fishermen use no feathers or flannel. Avoid purchasing any spoon with small, dangling hooks, or with more than three or less than two, or with any fastening of any kind except wire or gimp. Nothing else will for a moment stand the terrible teeth of these ferocious monsters. I once had an expensive imitation pearl fish, that was fastened with thin brass wire, bitten off by the first pickerel that touched it. If you use a reel, you will of course use your ordinary bass line; if not, purchase a common stout hand-line, and troll with from forty to fifty yards out. Your trolling-rod must be short, stiff and strong, not over ten feet long, and can be readily made by adding a stout top to your but and second joint; while, for weed fishing, you must have a long, stiff rod, and when the fish are heavy and tangle themselves in the weeds, which their first rush will often do, you must reach your line and draw them out by hand; by taking hold of the wire or gimp, you can readily land a ten-pound fish.
These fish, both pickerel and mascallonge, can be captured in immense numbers in the St. Lawrence, at Cape Vincent, Clayton, Alexandria Bay and many other places; in Lake Champlain, near Rouse’s Point; and in all the lakes of Canada; but they are dull sport in the catching and poor food in the eating. Believe no one who boasts of the fine flavor of the mascallonge, cook him as you will, he is nothing but a dirty, flabby, tasteless pickerel. And as for the sport, carry a blanket with you, take a turn with the hand-line round your leg, and stretching yourselves as best you may in the bottom of the boat, sleep comfortably till either a call from your oarsman or a tug on your leg rouses you to the dreary work of pulling in a worthless, unresisting log. When you strike and lose one fish, remain rowing round and round; if he is not much hurt, he will bite again, and where there is one there are more; remain at that spot till, by passing over the ground once or twice without a strike, you are thoroughly satisfied you have exhausted the supply. There is sometimes great beauty of scenery, and if your guide has anything to say, which he rarely has, you can, as you should be able ever to do in the open air, enjoy yourself.
The mode of fishing among the pond lilies that I have described is much more exciting, requiring continued activity, some skill and no little judgment, while there is greater risk of losing your prey. To avoid the latter casualty, if the fish weigh not over four pounds, lift him out at once, and proceed in the same way with larger fish to the extent your rod will stand. As for snap-fishing, that is, using a hook so constructed as to spring open or shut the moment it feels the bite, and thus grasping the fish or imbedding an extra hook in his jaws, I have only tried it sufficiently to be disgusted with it, although probably it may work well in open water. If, however, it touches a weed, it will be sprung, and then you cannot catch a fish at all till it is reset. It was invented to avoid the hook’s coming out of the pickerel’s mouth, which, from the nature of the latter, it is apt to do, a difficulty which old, slow, poky, English puntfishers endeavor to remedy by allowing the pike or jack, as they call him, to gorge the bait. A pickerel, like a trout, rushes up, strikes his prey, and immediately returns with it to his haunt; he then ends it round, having generally struck it crosswise, and swallows it. This he takes much longer to do than a trout, and the English works on fishing direct you to wait five minutes or till he runs again, and then, by striking smartly, you can fix the hook into his gills or stomach, from which nothing but the knife will remove it. The disadvantage, however, is that the pickerel often eject instead of gorging the bait, and when the fisherman, having impatiently awaited his five minutes, comes to strike, he strikes naught but the thin water or the stem of a water lily. After a few such disgusting results, he will probably determine, as the writer has, to strike at once, unless, by one of those exceptional cases to all good rules, some peculiar difficulty forces him to proceed otherwise. The word spoon, that has been so frequently used, is derived from the use originally of the bowl of a pewter table-spoon, into one end of which was fastened three hooks, and into the other a swivel attached to the line, and which, by playing and flashing through the water, attracted the fish; the old-fashioned spoon is now out of use, and entirely superseded by Buel’s patent. Pickerel, especially the smaller varieties, will take a fly, but not very readily; and this can hardly be said to be an established mode of fishing for them.
There is another style of pickerel fishing which is amusing, to say the least of it, and is practised extensively throughout the State of New York. You take a small piece of flat board about nine inches across, and pass a stick through a hole bored in the centre so as to project above and below it; the lower end is then loaded, and to the upper is attached a line of some twenty or thirty feet, that is baited with either a live or dead minnow. The line is coiled on one side of the wood, and leaving sufficient end for the bait to sink to a proper depth is fastened slightly in a slit cut in the wood like the thread of a spool. As many as you please to use are then placed in the pond and left to fish while you row about or otherwise employ yourself. If a pickerel takes the bait, the line is jerked out of the cleft, and uncoiling, allows him to carry off and pouch the bait, but when he undertakes to move away he is hooked by the resistance of the wood against the water. The motion of the float can be seen from some distance, and it is quite interesting to chase one after another that go “bobbing around,” as fish after fish is hooked. A plan somewhat similar to this is described by Walton and other writers, and it is merely a modification of an old invention.
The best season for pickerel fishing is after the first of September, although they are taken at all times, including their spawning seasons of February, March and April, and are quite good, voracious and abundant in July and August. The English pike is reported to show an abstinence from food in Summer that our fish never exhibit, and, indeed, differs from ours in many particulars, and none more to his credit than his scarcity. In Summer our fish resort to the shallow water, as they are also said to do in their spawning season, and at both times they are shot or speared without mercy. In fact, the quick eye, ready hand and steady foot required for spearing renders it an exciting and reputable sport, worthy of, and often unattainable by, the best of us. In Winter, pickerel seek the warm, deep water, and are caught through a hole in the ice by a live bait on a hand line. This is said to be very exciting, provided a rude hut is built over the hole, and a fire made in the hut, end provided the fisherman, seated in a comfortable chair, provided with a book, a segar and a glass of hot punch, has an assistant to pull out the fish. It is alleged that these fish are, “during the height of the season,” brilliant and beautiful; if that is so with any, except the Long Island Pickerel and the Federation Pike, the height of the season must have been too high for me to reach.
The family of the Esocidæ are truly typified by the voracious and terrible Esox luceus, wolf-fish, the true pike, from which they take their name, and include among their numbers the formidable Gar-pike, Esox osseus of the Southern waters. Although their flesh is hardly fit for the table, they are universally abundant, and their capture affords that kind of pleasure always derived from taking many and large animals of any description.
The principal species known in this country are:
The Mascallonge, Esox Ester.
The Northern Pickerel, Esox Lucioides, both of which inhabit the great rivers and lakes of the North.
The Common Pickerel, Esox Reticulatus, of the middle and northern States.
The Long Island Pickerel, Esox Fasciatus.
The White Pickerel, Esox Vittatus, of the West.
The Black Pickerel, Esox Niger, of Pennsylvania and of Saratoga Lake, New York, which Dr. De Kay presumes to be only the young of the common pickerel.
The Federation Pike, Esox Tredecem Radiatus, of the eastern States.