Esox Lucioides.—This fish is very similar to the mascallonge, so much so that it is not mentioned in most of the works on American Ichthyology, being confounded with the latter. The principal differences in appearance are, that the snout of the pickerel, the under jaw especially, is shorter and more obtuse than that of the mascallonge, the light tint of its sides is yellower, and it never attains over twenty-five pounds. The markings on the sides are somewhat different, the light, elongated spots of the pickerel, being occasionally replaced in the mascallonge by dark spots on a greyish ground, and the fin-rays are not so numerous.
Dorsal 18; Pectoral 16; Ventral 10; Anal 15 and Caudal 24.
Or, according to Professor Agassiz—
D. 21; P. 16; V. 11; A. 16; C. 17.
The principal color is dark grey, lighter on the sides than on the back.
These fish are caught in all the sluggish waters of the North, and on the same ground and at the same time with the mascallonge, and coincide with him entirely in habits and disposition. They exhibit the same ferocity, are allured by the same baits, entrapped in the same manner, and, in a culinary point of view are, if possible, inferior.
Esox Reticulatus.—These fish, which are sometimes called by the learned, and none others, Pike, have on their sides a network of dark lines upon a yellowish ground, and are named by naturalists from this peculiarity. The lines are sometimes longitudinal, and but little reticulated. The fin-rays are—
Dorsal 18; Pectoral 16; Ventral 10; Anal 14; Caudal 19-7/7. Or, according to Agassiz—
D. 20; P. 16; V. 10; A. 20; C. 18.
This fish rarely exceeds ten pounds in weight, although he has been said to attain fifteen; but in these instances has probably been confounded with the Northern Pickerel. He abounds all through the northern States, and is emphatically the Pickerel, when the word is used without other qualification. The darker, more sluggish and weedy the water, the more he likes it; old roots, decayed trees and a muddy bottom are his delight, and by his ferocity not a few ponds have been depopulated of superior fish. Among a certain class of fishermen he is a favorite, though utterly worthless for the table or as sport, and the little enterprise our farmers have shown has been in introducing this despicable fish into good waters, where, in consequence of his rapid increase and voracious habits, he has soon exterminated all other varieties. Even excellent trout ponds have been treated in this way.
The largest of these fish within my range of information, are taken in Long Pond, New Jersey, a large pond, originally a natural lake, and rendered more extensive by damming. The head-waters are filled with dead trees, amid the roots of which pickerel hide and thrive. There they are said to attain ten pounds, and often exceed five. Generally, however, five is the limit, and many more are taken that weigh not over three. These fish are not found in the waters of Canada, and are usually captured with live or dead bait, or a piece of pork, although in favorable water they would undoubtedly take the spoon, like their congeners of the north. Their habits are similar to those of the northern pickerel and mascallonge.
Esox Tredecem Radiatus.—This fish, simply so called because it has no name among fishermen and sportsmen, is almost unknown to naturalists. Dr. De Kay doubts its existence, and it is described alone by Dr. Mitchill. I take, therefore, much pleasure in adding my testimony, so far as it goes, to its existence, although after all it may be merely a northern or common pickerel so altered by a change of food and water as not to be recognizable. There were a large number taken in the Little Herring Pond, on Cape Cod near Agawam, and the secret of their existence being kept for years, we had excellent sport before the natives found it out, and with their spears and guns, fishing through the ice and killing them on the spawning-beds put a termination to their existence. A few may remain, and thus determine the question. “We caught large numbers, taking them of ten pounds’ weight, and readily killing in a few hours a hundred and twenty-five pounds. The fish were peculiarly beautiful in appearance, so much so that I made a rough outline which is now before me, and marked in the colors for the purpose of painting the picture of one. I afterward found the undertaking difficult, on account of the dissimilarities of the common pickerel, which I purchased in market and endeavored to use as a guide. The water of this pond was clear as crystal, and communicated with the ocean; it was alive with herring, perch and other small fish, as thick as the gold leaf in a bottle of Eau de vie de Dantsic, and may have had a great effect upon the coloring and shape of the fish. At the time I was struck with their appearance, and examined all the works on ichthyology at my command, but could find no satisfactory description.
The head was that of the pickerel family; of the teeth and fin-rays I remember nothing accurately; the back was dark brownish green, growing greener on the sides, where it was interspersed with numerous lilac spots or scales, and shading off, as it descended on the sides, into light green with yellow scales; then into yellow with brilliant silvery scales, terminated on the belly in the purest white. The dorsal fin and tail were dark green, the anal burnt sienna, the ventral yellow, with, I believe, the first ray red, and the pectoral yellow and reddish. The back of the head was dark green, the gill-covers were partially covered with scales, the iris was yellow shot with pearl; between the eye and the nostril there was a spot of lighter green; the snout and tip of the under jaw were dark green; adjoining on the under jaw was a warm lilac color, becoming purplish as it advanced toward the gill-cover. The lower part of the fore gill-cover was of a pearly tint, deepening into purple as it ascended; the gill-rays were a beautiful warm light mother of pearl, and behind them was a yellow tint. These colors were all exquisitely brilliant, and bid defiance to my palette. The sides were variegated with irregular broken horizontal black lines, extending nearly to the tail, which was forked. Toward the belly these lines disappeared; and the scales of the whole body were small and numerous. The depth was unusually large in proportion to the length, made greater probably by my drawing the outline round the fish as he lay on his side. I took three outlines; but the best specimen weighed six pounds and a half, and was twenty-four and a half inches long to the centre of the tail, and twenty-three to the root, by five and a half deep, the head having a length of seven and a half inches.
These fish were not only remarkably beautiful, but were excellent on the table, and differed utterly in both particulars from all other pickerel. They were taken in Summer among the water lilies, with the belly of a yellow perch or a piece of themselves, and surrounded as they were by the most delicious food, visible to our eyes in unlimited quantities, were naturally dainty.
The above description accords wonderfully with that of Dr. Mitchill, and there can be no doubt that the fish are identical, although I did not count the fin-rays, which Dr. Mitchill gives at—
Br. 13; D. 13; P. 13; V. 9; A. 13; C. 21.
Esox Fasciatus.—This fish has no name whatever in common parlance, and naturalists have dubbed him Varied Pickerel, Mackerel Pickerel, and other terms which are unknown except to their authors. He abounds on Long Island, although he is found elsewhere throughout the State, and probably the most appropriate name would be Banded Pickerel, as his scientific appellation justly suggests. Varied pickerel is appropriate to nothing, and mackerel pike to the scomber esox, another fish altogether. This fish is distinguishable by having dark vertical bands upon his sides, and being altogether of a darker hue on the back than any other pickerel, while the pectoral, ventral and anal fins are lighter colored and sometimes reddish. A dark band passes from the eye to the angle of the jaw, and the fin-rays are—
D. 22; P. 16; V. 10; A. 18; C. 18. Or, according to Dr. De Kay—
D. 15; P. 15; V. 9; A. 14; C. 19-5/5
This fish never exceeds one pound in weight, and one foot in length; and although endowed with all the ferocity of his family, does not apparently injure the trout ponds of Long Island, where he has a local habitation and a name. Probably he cannot destroy the larger fish, and the young fry do not live where he resorts. It is not from want of will but of power that he is harmless, for he will take a small fly with the same ravenous eagerness that the mascallonge exhibits in seizing the deadly spoon. He is fat and free from bones, and not a bad pan fish, and in these particulars, as well as in habits and appearance, he sets his big brothers a good example.
At the upper edge of the State of New York, where civilization terminates and Canada begins, a mighty river, the outlet of a hundred lakes and thousand streams, flows amid innumerable islands in a fierce current toward the sea. It bears upon its broad bosom in immense rafts the wealth of the forests of the Northwest. Enormous quantities of timber, collected from all its tributaries, even from the region around Lake Superior, are brought in large vessels, mostly three-masted schooners, to the head-waters of this stream, and there, at Cape Vincent or its neighborhood, are bound together into rafts, preparatory to descending the rapids. These rafts cover acres in extent, and sometimes have as many as fifty shanties built upon them to accommodate one hundred men for months, or until they shall reach Quebec or Montreal. Launched upon their journey, they are carried along by the current, and by sails when the wind is favorable, and even without the latter, moving as they do by the force of gravity faster than the stream, can be steered to some extent. Rough oars are fastened on the fore and after part, by a vigorous use of which the raft can be kept from danger and retained in the middle of the stream. They press on with resistless force, sometimes passing entirely over projecting rocks or small islands, and in one instance carrying off a lighthouse that had been located near their path. One end often runs far on shore, when the other swings round and drags it off; vessels of all kinds keep clear of them, if possible. They are bound together with withes made by twisting saplings, and so strongly that they rarely give way when rushing over rocks or descending rapids that are almost cataracts. Sometimes they are composed of logs, sometimes of rough staves. The latter are bound together in cribs, and instead of three drams making one crib, as is common in New York, three cribs make a dram; and the wood measure of the North may be said to be
| 1000 | Staves make one Crib; |
| 3 | Cribs make one Dram; |
| 20 | Drams make one Raft. |
And no one has any scruples whatever, for the country being poverty itself, the people are neither elevated nor moral, and eke out a scanty subsistence by rafting and fishing.
The people use for fishing, boats on the plan of a small whaleboat, built of thin cedar, and the surprise of my companions upon their first visit to this desolate region, was by no means small on discovering that they were expected to fish with three lines at once, holding one in their hand and having a rod projecting from each side of the boat in addition. We had arrived the evening before at Clayton, and, like true knights, finding there was to be a ball given by the natives, had attended it, and danced till the wee hours, with pretty little bright-eyed girls, strange dances called by Indian names, among which the most remarkable was Moneymust. It was in the latter part of July, and the day after the ball being bright and beautiful, with a southwesterly breeze, we each selected our boatman—for only one fisherman can go in each boat—and started for a day’s sport among the mascallonge and pickerel. We separated at once, some going up-stream, others across by Powder-horn and Shot-bag Islands, while I kept down along shore and ran into the bay behind the old mill.
I had on the line of my right-hand rod a Buel’s patent spoon, tin on the outside and red on the inside, brightened, by being rubbed with pumice stone, till it shone like burnished silver, and, with red ibis feathers wound round the treble hook, it glanced and sparkled through the water, visible at a great distance. On the left-hand rod the spoon was copper on the inside, and the hooks were wound with scarlet flannel, while that in my hand line had copper on the outside, brightly polished, but neither feathers nor flannel round the hooks. We passed down from the outer point of the island toward the lower part of the bay without success, but when returning inside, my right-hand rod suddenly bent, and the line slowly unwound from the reel, over which I had taken a couple of turns to prevent its rendering too rapidly; dropping the hand-line, which was made fast to the seat, I seized the rod, and turning it round and reaching my line, commenced to draw it in as lightly and delicately, but steadily as possible, just holding it between the tips of my fingers. The fish was large, and when he was about half-way in, having come thus far with no other objections than a few violent flounces, he made a fierce rush; instantly the line slipped with a steady but slight strain through my fingers, and he dashed off for some distance, but soon tired, he allowed me to pull him up to the side of the boat; once there, grasping the wire above the hook, I lifted him quickly over the side and threw him on the bottom, where he flounced about vigorously and with energy enough, if exhibited sooner, to have broken almost any line. Taking the hook carefully by the shank, I twisted it out of his mouth, and weighing him with the scales that were always in my pocket, found he weighed ten pounds.
Turning at the head of the little cove, we retraced our path and struck another fish, and so over and over again, some of them making violent but unavailing efforts to escape, others slapping off just as they were being lifted into the boat, others again coming in with their heads out of water like a yawl towed behind a steamboat. Sometimes it was the right-hand rod that bent, sometimes the left, then the hand-line felt the strain—often two and sometimes all three at once; it kept me busy, to say the least of it. The reels were of little use, as the boatman had to keep rowing to prevent the lines sinking to the bottom and catching in the weeds, which, in spite of all precautions they sometimes succeeded in doing, and the strain was consequently too great for them. The bottom of the boat was filled with the long-bodied, wolfish and ravenous devils, that snapped their jaws, struggled about, their eyes gleaming with impotent fury and merciless cruelty, as ugly looking a set as the sun ever shone upon; but as they were brought in, one after another, my oarsman was delighted.
We remained on the same spot, rowing round until satisfied we should get no more, when we headed over toward the Canadian shore, into the far-famed region of Eel Bay. The latter takes its name from a fly that is found in the fore part of July in immense numbers on the waters of this region. It appears to one who has small claims as an entomologist to be the May-fly or famous Green and Grey Drake of England. Some that I pressed and brought to the city were recognized at once by the English fly-makers, who were delighted to see an old friend, and made a number of them for me after the pattern, saying that there was but a shade of color between them and what they had so often prepared as the May-fly at home. These flies appear in myriads; when the wind is northerly, the waves will cover the dock at Cape Vincent with them several inches thick. Their body is long and so heavy that in the early morning, when their wings are damp with the dew, they cannot rise to fly and are readily picked up by their wings, which project invitingly above their backs. Eel Bay is named from the immense quantities of these flies that appear there; they constitute the principal food of the fish from which they derive their name, as well as of the cisco, black and rock bass, chubs, and probably many others. They rise with difficulty from the water, and fly heavily and slowly.
Our course carried us across the rapid current of the St. Lawrence, where my boatman was glad to have me haul in my lines, that dragged heavily, as there was no chance of taking fish. We were soon in the bay, an extensive reach formed by a bend in the St. Lawrence, lying upon one side, out of the force of the current, and filled with innumerable islands. It probably holds within itself a thousand isles. They are of all kinds, shape, form and appearance, some half a mile in extent, constituting a cultivated farm, others a bare rock scarcely projecting above the surface, some covered with a dense foliage, others furnishing a single tree, and many bare of tree, bush or grass. There is immense variety of appearance, but all are inconceivably picturesque. None are very high, but at times the rocks run straight up like a wall of stone, while others are long, low and flat. They are clustered together, often affording barely room for the boat to pass, and offer to the eye every variety of shape and foliage. Amid them we now wandered, admiring their bewitching beauty as they lay basking in the broad sunlight upon the calm bosom of the river. Seldom are they inhabited, and most of the primeval forest trees having been cut, they have grown up with a dense underwood, occasionally relieved by some tall monarch of the forest that has survived the fury of man.
Keeping close along under the overhanging tree or rock, or passing into the open water with ever-changing scenery, we drew from the “vasty deep,” where the long pickerel weed could be seen reaching up toward the surface, one after another of those savage monsters, the Great Northern Pickerel. Without catching anything of wonderful size, we had taken an unusual number, when the calls of hunger warned us that the hours were fleeting faster than we thought.
Landing at the point of an island where there was a beautiful natural grove, we set to work to build a fire and prepare our fish for dinner. The pleasantest arrangement connected with this fishing is that each boat is provided with a basket of good cold fare, a frying-pan and the necessary means of cooking; and in the middle of the day it is customary for several to meet at an appointed island, and for the fishermen to have a jolly dinner. Although we were first to arrive, our companions were not long behind us, and the best fish, especially the black bass, were selected, cleaned, split open, and fried in the grease tried out of a few pieces of salt pork. Our provisions were combined and made quite a handsome picnic set-out, rendered more acceptable to our sharpened appetite by a few glasses of iced champagne. Of course we had our stories to tell: how skillfully we had landed this fish, or how unfortunately we had lost that; and one man, who had struck and almost landed a mascallonge, was agitated with mingled happiness and despondency. The days were long, our boatmen had had a hard tug of it, the shade was grateful, the champagne refreshing, our cigars excellent, and consequently no one was hurried. The wind, however, kept increasing, and after a couple of hours, pleasantly passed, we once more embarked and bid each other farewell till night.
My boatman struck well in toward the Canadian shore; but although we crossed places where he had had wonderful success on many a previous occasion, and of which there were extraordinary stories of mascallonge, our luck had deserted us. However, perseverance was rewarded; suddenly my hand-line was taughtened as though it had struck a log; for a moment it was still, then I felt the motion of the fish. The boatman instantly dropped his oars and reeled in as quickly as possible the other lines—just in time; for the fish, feeling he was caught, made one rush directly toward us. I drew in the line hand over hand, to have something to give out when he should make away again, but not nearly so fast as he moved. He passed close to us; we could see the broad back, the long nose, the fierce eye, the mighty length of the mascallonge.
“Turn the boat broadside toward him,” I whispered as he passed.
Away he went, the slack of the line hissed through the water as his increasing distance took it up, and partially deadened his way as he reached the end of it and came against the light though steady strain with which I held it. Giving to him, at first readily then more sparingly, I again turned him; this time he did not approach so near, but swung round well in-shore. Then, with a sudden rush, he came straight on, and flashed directly beneath the bottom of the boat. If the line once touched the rough surface, or caught in a splinter of the wood, we knew it would part like pack-thread. The oarsman tried to swing her round; there was no time; hastily gathering a few coils, I threw them into the water at the stern, and passing the line over my head, anxiously watched them sink. Suddenly they were taken up, the line in my hand taughtened and lifted out of water; it had not caught, and that danger was past. The struggle lasted long; again and again he darted away; once he nearly exhausted my line, and compelled me to use considerable force, but generally I held the least possible strain on him. Finally, he made one grand rush, was foiled, allowed himself to be drawn alongside, and was neatly gaffed by the boatman.
He was an immense fish, a triton even among pickerel of ten pounds. Beauty he certainly did not possess, but grandeur and ferocity marked every lineament. His huge head, immense jaws, and terrible teeth, his long, narrow body, large fins, and broad tail, and above all, his fierce, gleaming, savage eye, marked him as the undisputed master of the fresh waters. His enormous size and prodigious strength, the latter exemplified by his nearly springing over the gunwale, indicated that he had no match even in our extensive lakes, while his merciless ferocity, that would spare neither large nor small, friend nor foe, was but too apparent. His weight, as afterward ascertained, was thirty-five pounds, and his length was excessive proportionally to other fish. Although he fought well, he had not exhibited in the water the vigor he did out of it. Now that his fate was sealed, he lashed about, struggled and flounced as though his capture had just commenced, and scarcely showed an intimation of approaching death or surrender. It appears to be a peculiarity of the pickerel family that they exhibit their courage and strength too late, waiting till they are manacled before they fairly rouse themselves to the emergency. Their efforts consequently afford little pleasure to the sportsman or profit to themselves.
Having captured the master spirit of the stream, we did not wish any of his smaller brethren, and while he was dying we wound up the hand-line and removed the spinning tackle from the others. I then took out a twelve-foot salmon leader, or casting-line, as our friends across the water express it, and fastened on it, at equal distances, five large flies, the upper dropper and tail-flies being dressed with white and ibis feathers mixed on a large sized salmon hook, while the intermediate ones were small, dark colored salmon flies. This leader, thus equipped, being fastened to one line, and a similar one, except that a small, gay spoon replaced the tail-fly, to the other, they were trolled thirty or forty yards astern, so that they sank well as we moved slowly along. Then, leaving the quiet bays, with their sluggish current and weedy bottom, we struck out boldly into the rapid water and sought the rocky shoals where black bass love to hide and wait.
The wind had increased till there was quite a sea, and it was difficult to manage the boat; but that was soon forgotten in the excitement. The fish were numerous and in excellent disposition; every shoal we crossed furnished us with several; we often took two or three at a time, and occasionally had both lines engaged at once. They were brave, vigorous and determined; madly they darted forward on feeling the hook, and threw themselves high out of water to shake it from their mouths; finding that vain, they made rush after rush to escape, again and again they leaped in the air, resolute and courageous to the last; not till they were in the net would they surrender.
Strange it was to note the different shades of their colors. Their deep sides, for they are an awkward-looking fish, and their shape gives little indication of their strength, were, in some, of that dark green, almost black, from which their name is derived; in others it was a light green, and again in others pale yellow. Whence these variations are derived, unless it be from the shade of the ground they live on, to which all fish are said to assimilate, is not known; but it has often led to their being divided into distinct classes, or mistaken for other species. Their peculiarity of springing out of water is remarkable. Salmon and blue-fish do so frequently, trout rarely, and other fish seldom or never; but a black bass of any size will invariably make one or more desperate leaps. It is a glorious sight to see his full length above the water, and a nervous moment till the line that has been slacked is again taughtened by his strain. Such leaps are his most effective means of escape, by enabling him to shake the hook from his mouth or strike the line with his tail; and though not so persevering as the trout, generally, at the sight of the net, he makes a final, dangerous rush.
We coasted along by island after island, crossing near one named after “Old Bill Johnston,” memorable for having taken an active part in the Canadian rebellion, and long forced to hide from his English pursuers. Johnston’s Island, as it is called, was his favorite resort, where he was succored and warned of danger by his beautiful daughter, universally known as the Queen of the Isles. What a theme for the poet or the novelist the father safe neither on the English shore, where he had waged unjustifiable war, nor among the Americans, who would have been compelled to surrender him, lurking among those beautiful isles, then wilder and more densely wooded than now, trusting for his support to his rod and line—for he rarely dared to use his rifle—and to the scanty supplies brought by his daughter; the latter residing on shore watching for any expedition that might be fitted out against him, and at the first intimation darting off in her light canoe in spite of rain or storm, in the daylight or impenetrable darkness, and arriving at her retreat, perhaps just in time to warn him of his danger and enable him to escape. Imagine the woman’s ready wit, ever at work, ever on the watch for him; imagine the father’s joy on seeing her amid his trying and wearisome solitude, and her anxiety till he is once more out of danger. The thought that such things had really happened so near to where we then were, added to our excitement, and was only dissipated on passing Whisky Island, which is in dangerous proximity to the former.
Our boat was headed down-stream and driven before the strong wind; we moved rapidly with varying success till we arrived at one little shoal, the name of which I have forgotten, or it never existed, and where we found fish innumerable. Frequently every hook on both lines was engaged; often I landed three, sometimes four, and once or twice five fish at a time. The sport was wonderfully exciting; first one rod bent, then the other; and then, while I was busy foiling the struggles of fish so numerous that they made the water foam, I would see with a feeling of despair the other rod bend and the line slowly render round the reel. It was impossible to move faster, useless to hurry; but, as quickly as I could and dared, the fish were brought to net. This shoal was
exposed to the full fury of the wind, and the water dashed in over the bow or broke against the side, while the oarsman had all he could manage to row against the blast.
Round and round this spot we moved, ever with the same result; the lines were not half out before they would be seized, it was almost impossible to keep the two rods in play. This lasted till we were both utterly worn out with the excitement and the exertion, and were compelled to give up from sheer exhaustion. My fingers had many a bloody mark left by the reel-handle, that a sudden rush had jerked from my grasp, and being compelled in the uncomfortable seat to turn my body round to reel up, my back was almost broken. The man had rowed as long as he could, but was forced to run down between the Powder-horn and Shot-bag Islands and rest awhile before breasting the storm homeward.
We had had great luck, taking in the last hour and a half seventy-three bass. It was a glorious sight when we arrived at home to see our fish laid out side by side, the mascallonge at their head, and tapering regularly down to a half-pound black bass. The latter do not average any great size, rarely exceeding three pounds and never known to be taken over six; but a day upon the St. Lawrence among those beautiful Thousand Isles, either in pursuit of the mighty mascallonge, the furious pickerel, or, best of all, the spirited black bass, will never be regretted by the poet or the sports man.
Labrax Lineatus—Rock-fish of Pennsylvania and the South—Perca Labrax (Smith)—Sciena Lineata (Black.)
This fish, which has a large number of scientific names and several popular ones, belongs to the Perch family, has two spines on the after part of the gill-cover, and the margin of the fore gill-cover rough like the edge of a saw. Its color is bluish on the back, light on the sides, and white on the belly. The sides are marked by seven to nine longitudinal dark lines, from which its name is derived, the upper of which reach the tail, but the lower fade out above the anal fin. These lines sometimes are broken or consist of contiguous dots. The ventral fins are below and somewhat behind the pectorals, and have the first rays spinous. The fore part of the dorsal has nine spiny rays, and at the interval between that and the after part there is another small hard ray, while the after part is composed of twelve soft rays. The pectorals have sixteen soft rays, the ventrals one hard and five soft, the anal three hard and eleven soft, and the tail seventeen soft rays.
Whether the name Bass means Perch or not, I cannot say, although there is no such tradition among my Dutch ancestry, and I am unable to find the word in their Dutch dictionaries. There could, however, be no more creditable derivation, and as many authorities assert the fact, it is as well to let it pass. The fish are found along the coast from Maine to Florida, although they appear never to have visited Europe, and are the gamest salt water fish of our continent. In their season, which is at intervals from early Spring to late in Fall, they are taken on the bars and in every creek of our extensive coast. The net destroys the greater number, but they bite freely and fight bravely for their lives. Great skill and experience are requisite for their successful capture when they are shy and scarce, but when abundant or hungry, although always a dainty fish, they bite rapidly and boldly. Like the squid of the deep seas, these may be said to be the largest and smallest of fish; they are taken from an ounce to a hundred pounds’ weight.
The Striped Bass becomes an object of the angler’s attention in April, when he runs up the rivers to spawn. He ascends into cool fresh water, until arrested by a natural, or, too frequently, an artificial barrier. He is taken under the Cohoes Falls in the Mohawk, and at Albany and Troy in the Hudson, and reaches the very head-waters of the Delaware, where he is known as Rock-fish. Many, and those the largest, do not appear to leave the salt water, and are found in the small bays and inlets. In the fall, when the cold weather sets in, they retire to the salt water coves and lagoons, where they lie imbedded in the mud or hiding near the bottom, secure against danger, or discomfort from cold or storms. Advantage is taken of this peculiarity by the market fishermen, and there is a pond on Long Island, near Sag Harbor, and others near Point Judith, that are a source of great profit to their owners. The mill-pond at Stamford having carried away the gates one Winter, and run out nearly dry, striped bass of immense size were picked up by cart-loads from the muddy bottom.
These fish can be confined to fresh water without being permitted to visit the sea, and they will not only live and breed, but are said to be much improved by the change. In September they appear on the coast in shoals, and are taken both inside and outside of the bars, and in the bays and inlets where they resort for food. As they are much sought after and highly appreciated, and as I have added largely to my own knowledge by drawing extensively upon the experience of my friends, the following description of the numerous modes of taking them will be found rather minute.
When they first appear in April the shad are running, and hence, in the rivers that the latter frequent, shad roe is the best though most troublesome of all baits. In places where shad are not to be found, the bass are suspicious of such bait. As it is most difficult to fasten on the hook, it must be cut with the skin that envelops it, and tied on with tow, flax, or floss silk. Stonehenge, after eloquently defending the use of the salmon roe as a bait, which is ordinarily considered a kind of poaching, gives for its preparation the following directions, that apply equally well to the shad roe: Boil the roe without its envelope for twenty minutes; bruise it in a mortar to a uniform consistency; add to each pound an ounce of common salt and a quarter of an ounce of saltpeter; beat them together and store in an earthen jar covered with a bladder. Frank Forrester recommends that the roe be well washed and thoroughly dried in the air, salted with two ounces of rock salt and a quarter of an ounce of saltpeter to a pound of spawn, dried gently and potted down, covered with melted lard or suet in earthen jars. This, either fresh or potted, is a most effective bait for striped bass, but I confess for trout my experience is to the contrary.
In streams that the shad do not frequent, striped bass are taken early in the season with shrimp threaded on longitudinally, by passing the point of the hook under the back plates; as the season advances, and crabs shed their coats, with the shedder, or better, soft crabs; and in the Fall with shrimp, the bass, or barred killey, and the spearing. In fishing with shrimp—and it is a good bait all the season through, and must be tried when others fail—use a float fastened about three feet above a swivel sinker, to the lower swivel of which are to be attached two distinct gut leaders, one of three feet, the other of two. Single gut, if large, round, and true, is decidedly preferable to double, and the hook should never be a coarse, clumsy Limerick, which has such an undeserved reputation, but a delicate Carlisle, with a broad, round bend. If very large fish are expected—and they rarely are—use No. 0; but generally No. 3 is large enough. With crab the hook must be larger. I prefer always to have the point of the hook covered, and recommend that the shrimp should be bunched on till they hide the hook entirely, and form a round, attractive bait, composed of so many shrimp as no bass ever before saw together.
In June, and throughout the Summer, the crab is a better bait ordinarily than the shrimp. I prefer the soft crab, because it does not dull the point of the hook, as will sometimes happen with a shedder that is not quite ripe; it is easily cut up into proper baits, whereas the shedder has to be skinned, or, more properly, shelled—a long and nasty operation; it is always in good order whereas others, unless carefully selected, and kept just the right time, will tear to pieces in the course of preparation; and finally, the skin of the soft crab, especially as it verges toward the buckram, enables the hook to retain its hold. Judging from human nature, I fancy the fish must prefer a nice, soft, plump bait, to one that is jagged and half full of pieces of shell.
Most writers say, fish with crab on the bottom, because there it is naturally found; I say, fish with it near the top, because no sensible fish can imagine that a quarter of a crab long since dead and dismembered has any control over its own motions. In fact there is no unbending rule for fishing; the only way is to try all plans, and if the fish will not notice your crab suspended in mid-water, take off your float and swivel sinker, put on a running sinker, as it is called, made like a piece of lead pipe with a small hole in the centre, tie a knot in the line to prevent its going down on the hook; use a single bait of a good-sized piece of crab and cast well out from you, and the first eel that comes along will astonish, not to say disgust you. The line being free, though the lead lies on the bottom, you can feel the first touch of a fish, and strike at once; whereas if the sinker were the old-fashioned deep sea lead he would have to drag its weight some distance before the fisherman would be aware of his proceedings. A man, by fishing on the bottom, although justified by a philosophy which establishes the fact that bass ought to look for crabs there, and not dangling about in mid-water, will surely catch three eels to one bass. The truth is, crabs are not found on the bottom in such places, generally strong foaming currents, which they never frequent unless carried away by the force of the water, and soft crabs are by their natural enemies, and many other causes, often torn into pieces and borne about by the tide.
The bait should be kept in continual motion: this is the first law of all bait fishing. It is done by twitching the rod, and induces the fish to seize the prey, which they imagine is about to escape. I have seen them time and again dart at a bait when in motion, that they had smelt round contemptuously when still. Crab is universally regarded as the preëminent bass-bait in Summer, although its reputation is disputed by that wonderful production of the sea, the squid. This horrible monster, of which sailors tell such astounding stories, has illuminated the tales of olden time, and been a pet forecastle yarn with ancient and modern mariners. There are accounts of ships seized by its arms, that reached to the mastheads, and sunk or only saved by prayers to the Virgin Mary and the vigorous use of axes on its many muscular and boneless limbs; of grateful mariners presenting pictures of the dreadful encounter to the shrine of Our Lady; of huge pieces of the arms of this fish, indicating that they must have been sixty or more feet long, found in the maw of the whale, whose food they are; and horrible stories whispered with bated breath, of men in bathing drawn down by even the smaller of the monsters. Though there must be something in it, I doubt if this is all true, notwithstanding the squid is ugly enough for anything. With us the squid or cuttle-fish is harmless except to the sight, and in his native element is glad to hide himself in the obscurity of a dark liquid that he has the power of emitting, when pursued. The only bone in his body is in the middle of his stomach, and what it is put there for unless to give him an accurate idea of indigestion, no one knows. For the present it is enough to say he is good bait, although not handsome, and may be used either in trolling or still fishing.
Another excellent bait early in the Fall, although nowhere mentioned in the books, and, I believe, my own discovery, is the scollop. My attention was first called to it by some men opening them for the table and throwing the many-eyed skins into the water. The bass collected at once and rushed eagerly to the very dock, almost springing out of water to seize the coveted morsel. Upon this hint I acted, and by great care, for the scollop is extremely tender, and by passing the hook several times through the skin, I succeeded in keeping the bait on while I cast very gently. My success was astonishing, and then and afterward I took the largest fish under the most unfavorable circumstances with it, when they would not touch the most tempting crab. The heart of the scollop is pearly white, and is attractive and so good that no wonder the bass should be crazy for it. It is difficult to manage and easily washed off the hook, but if any fisherman shall see bass, as I have often, lying in a deep pool, occasionally leaping out or sluggishly showing their back fins on the surface and refusing all allurements, let him try scollops, and he will think of me in his dying hour.
As the days grow colder and the crab reassumes his impenetrable coat and dangerous pincers, shrimp again come into play, and on many occasions the belly of the white soft clam will attract the bass even earlier in the season. But in August I have had excellent sport casting, if I may use the word, for him with the spearing. Early in Summer a delicate little fish an inch or two long, pearly white and semi-transparent, with a black eye and a white band along the lateral line, makes its appearance on the shores of Long Island Sound and elsewhere, and has come to be called the spearing. It is a beautiful fish, and properly dressed might rival in delicacy the far-famed English white-bait; but it is never brought to market till later in the season, when it has grown several inches long and is comparatively tasteless. Being too small in the early summer to take a hook, they are difficult to catch; but an excellent net, both for them and killey-fish, can be made of mosquito netting stretched double between two hoop-poles, with a stout cord run along the top and bottom to receive the leads and floats respectively. The netting being of extra width, can be doubled together with the lead line laid in the bag, or, as sailors would say of a rope, in the bight, and the leads being small pipe, fastened at short intervals, will keep the net close to the bottom—an important particular. It should be five to six yards long; and two men, taking each a handle, can sweep a considerable part of the shore, and often fill a pail with minnows or spearing at one haul.
The killey-fish, so called by our ancestors from being caught in the kills or creeks, and which, by the by, are at least of three kinds without counting sticklebacks, will rush about and try to creep under the net; but spearing, which always go in shoals, when once in the net do not seem to be able to escape, and will stay there as long as it is kept in motion. No fisherman living near the water should be without this contrivance, as nothing is so annoying as to be unable to get bait; he will soon acquire considerable skill in its use, and if he is as boyish as a fisherman ought always, though grey-headed, to be, he will experience much excitement in the pursuit even of his bait. If spearing cannot be had, though that is rare, the barred killey, vulgarly called the bass killey, is the next in beauty and attractiveness; it is the Fundulus fasciatus, or striped killey-fish of De Kay, and if it cannot be had, the ugly green killey-fish, Fundulus viridescens, may be used, but with doubtful success.
To cast with spearing in the manner here suggested successfully, a stout long salmon rod will be requisite. A small hook is run through the spearing’s mouth and out at his side, for he is long since dead, and a cast is made into the foaming torrent of a mill-tail or rushing tide. The bait is drawn irregularly over the surface of the water, and again cast and played like the fly. The bass strike it as trout or salmon take the latter, and there is the same skill and uncertainty in the pursuit.
I was once fishing in this manner for snapping mackerel, the young of the blue-fish, Temnodon saltator, with single gut half worn through, and the lightest tackle. I had been quite successful, much to the disgust of older men who were fishing in the usual manner with live killey and no luck, and finally made a cast right among a number of their floats. Suddenly, from the turbid depths, shot a huge bass, gleamed for a moment in the sunlight, and disappeared beneath the surface carrying my spearing in his mouth. It was a splendid fish, and my skill was tried to the utmost; many a run I was forced to give to, and only the great length of line I had on the reel saved him; after a good half hour’s excellent sport I brought him to the net, and my companions were still more disgusted at their want of luck. I again made a few casts, catching several snappers, when another bass, full as large as the first, struck me and was landed after an equally spirited contest. This was early in September, and before the fish were taken by trolling in that neighborhood.
In June and October, bass of great size are captured off Point Judith with half a mossbunker, otherwise menhaden, hard-head or bony-fish, the Alosa menhaden, thrown from the rocks by rod or hand into the surf. The bait is ordinarily tied on the hook, which is large, and thrown without float or sinker as far into the sea as its weight will enable the fisherman to cast, and then slowly reeled or drawn in. Similar fishing is pursued at Newport, and bass are frequently taken of over forty pounds.
A favorite mode of catching these fish is by trolling from a boat either with rod and line or hand-line and with the natural squid, or the imitation made of pewter, tin or bone. In this mode very large fish were once taken at Hell Gate, but the glory thereof has departed. Where squid cannot be obtained, the large spearing or barred killey will answer well.
There is this redeeming quality about taking striped bass with the float and sinker, that the fishing generally being done in a rapid, and at times, boisterous current, the bait has to be kept in motion, and it is necessary to reel in and cast out every few minutes. As great skill in casting can be obtained, and there is an immense advantage in throwing into the exact spot, it is truly a sportsmanlike mode of procedure. A good fisherman can cast thirty to forty yards, or even more, into the size of a hat, without tangling the line or jerking the bait, while the tyro will generally fail reaching half the distance, and will frequently leave his baits on the way. I can cast better and further from the left side, and have heard many old fishermen say the same, but you must be able to use the rod on either side.
As there are persons so ignorant as not to know how to cast at all, and as I once found one stopping his reel with his first finger, I will say that to make a cast the line is reeled up till the float touches the tip, or in case no float is used, till the bait is within a foot of it, the right hand grasps the rod at the reel, which is turned up, and the thumb placed upon it to regulate the escape of the line; the left hand is near the but; the point of the rod is then carried back behind the fisherman, and with a steady, springy motion is suddenly brought forward and the line delivered. A jerk, or the fouling of the line, which will surely happen if it is allowed to overrun, will certainly tear off your baits, and perhaps your float and sinker; the sinker must strike the water in advance of the float, or the leader is apt to hitch round the upper point of the latter.
The most scientific and truly sportsmanlike mode of taking striped bass must be admitted to be with the fly; which, unfortunately, can only be done in the brackish or fresh water. Like salmon, they will not take the fly in the salt creeks and bays, and thus, though the sport is excellent, it is confined to few localities, and those difficult of access. Fly-fishing may be done either with the ordinary salmon rod, or in a strong current with the common bass rod, by working your fly on the top of the water and giving a considerable length of line. The best fly is that with the scarlet ibis and white feathers mixed, the same as used for black bass; but bass may be taken with any large fly, especially those of gay color. Excellent sport is frequently had in this way from off some open bridge, where the falling tide, mixed with the fresh water, rushes furiously between the piers.
It is generally conceded that the best time for bass fishing is at night, especially if the moon be bright. The most favorable wind is a southwesterly one, strong enough to make a good ripple on the water, and the right time of tide from half-ebb to half-flood. In the shallower inlets the neap tides are preferable, as they do not drain the water so low as to alarm the fish.
In bass fishing, whether for trolling or casting, the rod should be eight to ten feet long, stiff and light, but with a certain amount of elasticity. A rod made of a piece of bamboo, cut in two joints, will, until some awkward friend steps on and breaks it, answer as well as any other, and one that costs three dollars is in every particular as good as one worth forty. The light bamboo jointed rods of our ancestors are no more to be had; the makers say it is impossible to get the cane of the proper taper, and rods of ash and hickory have come into fashion. The latter will answer every purpose, but as they are sure to warp, the guides should be double, so that the line can be shifted from one side to the other. Patent standing guides are all the fashion with us, though the English use the old-fashioned rings made large. Of course we prefer our own invention. The funnel-top should be large, and for a valuable rod, or a particular gentleman, should be made of agate. They are infinitely superior to the old-fashioned ring-top still used in England. Avoid having many guides; they create friction, and three or four will answer every purpose.
If you are a gentleman and a man of fortune, of lavish hand and open heart, you should use what is called a grass or raw silk line, buying a new one every two weeks, by which time it will be rotted out. It does not kink or over-run, works beautifully, and will enable you to cast ten yards further than with any other; but it is not strong at best, will rot immediately if not dried after the least exposure, and costs money. If you are a poor or a careless man, buy a new flax line every year, and throw it away in the Fall, after being disgusted with it all the season. If you are neither of these, buy a plaited silk line of one hundred yards; be sure and get a new one, and take care of it.
Lines may be preserved from rotting by being dipped in a mixture made of one pound of printer’s varnish, half a pound of siccity, and one gill of spirits of turpentine, warmed up together, or in the ordinary drying oil sold at the paint shops, and although they do not render quite so easy, I have all mine, trout and bass lines, so prepared. I cannot take the trouble to dry my lines after every exposure, and if once forgotten, without being so protected, they are ruined. A well-made silk line is strong enough to hang oneself by, if the angler should be disgusted with life by his ill luck, and coated in this manner they will last a long time. They do not get saturated or take up water in casting, and do not stick to the rod as they otherwise would. Lines for fly fishing, prepared in a similar manner, are sold in the fishing-tackle stores, although the makers are opposed to an improvement that will diminish their business. The line is dipped in the preparation when warm, and left in all night; it is removed next morning after the mixture has been rewarmed, and is stretched in a garret or other place not exposed to the sun or rain, and the superfluous varnish wiped off, and after it is thoroughly dried, it is well rubbed. This preparation cannot be used with linen or cotton lines, as it will rot them.
In striking a bass you cannot be too quick, and when fishing with a float your line will sink in the water and enable you to trip the float and fix the hook at once. The fish must then be kept well in hand; but never exhibit severity unless compelled by circumstances; be rough, and the fish will be rough; be gentle, and he will come to you like a friend. Keep him from the rocks and bottom if possible; but give to his willful rushes till he is content to listen to reason. By this course you will avoid feeling often that sinking of the heart that follows when the strain suddenly ceases on your line, and you know he has escaped.[16]
That fine game fish of the southern States usually called bass or red-fish, belongs to another family, and is the Corvina ocellata, or branded corvina. It is distinguished by a peculiar black spot, like a drop of ink, near the tail. It furnishes noble sport and excellent eating, abounds in the neighborhood of the Chesapeake Bay, and is highly prized at southern tables.
Gristes Nigricans (Agassiz)—Centrarchus Fasciatus (De Kay).
This fish has innumerable scientific names, while it can scarcely be said to have any distinctive popular one. Bass, either alone or with some additional appellation, is applied by common usage to almost the entire perch family, one of the largest among the American fishes, while scientific men are at as great a loss for appropriate nomenclature or accurate distinctions. There are probably several species classed under the same name as this fish, and itself differs greatly in color and appearance, according to its food, water or locality. There is no doubt that all fish, and more especially trout, change their hues according to the color of the water they inhabit, or even to the light or shade of their favorite haunts. It is supposed that they assimilate to the bottom where they are found, a provision of nature to protect them from their enemies of the air. Unquestionably the same species present a very different appearance in clear, limpid streams, and in muddy, sluggish brooks. Black Bass are said to possess of themselves the power to change their color at will, and have been known to do so repeatedly when confined in a vessel of water. They are found to have black, green and yellow sides, according to circumstances, and often within a short distance of one another, though their backs are generally dusky black.
The gill-cover has two flat points, the teeth are minute, while the back fin, though single, is partly divided into two. It contains ten hard and fourteen soft rays; the pectoral has eighteen soft rays, the ventral six, the first one almost spinous, the anal three spines, the first very short, and twelve soft rays, and the tail sixteen soft rays. This fish has been confounded with the Lake Huron Black Bass, Huro nigricans, which is now supposed to be a different variety, characterized by two longitudinal lines or stripes running the entire length of its body.
The gill-rays are six and the fin-rays, as given by Dr. De Kay, are as follows, but I think liable to considerable variation.
D. 9.1.14; P. 18; V. 5; A. 3.12; C. 16-6/6.
Black Bass, belonging as they do to the perch family, have many of the habits and can be captured in the same manner as their congeners. But, as they are infinitely superior in flavor, they are equally so in game and sporting qualities. They will take minnows, shiners, grasshoppers, frogs, worms, or almost anything else that can be called a bait, and like all fish, prefer the live to the dead. They may be fished for with good stout tackle, gut leaders, a reel, and an ordinary bass rod, in the same manner as fish are generally captured by boys and blockheads. In June they affect the grassy bottom in water fifteen to twenty feet deep, but as the season advances they resort to the rocky shoals and rapid currents, where they are taken on and after the middle of July by sportsmen with the fly. They may be captured by casting the fly as for salmon or trout, and this is by far the most sportsmanlike way, but the most destructive and usually resorted to is trolling. For casting, a two-handed seventeen foot salmon, rod is preferable, while for trolling, a short bass rod is the thing. By anchoring your boat to the windward of a shoal, or by walking out on some point of rocks, you can command a great extent of water with your fly-rod, and have royal sport alone, whereas for trolling an oarsman is indispensable.
The flies to be used are the ordinary small-sized salmon flies, not too gaudy, though the first dropper and tail fly may be larger and made of white and ibis feathers mixed. In casting you will use your ordinary cast, but in trolling you may attach five or six flies to a long salmon leader at equal distances, and will frequently take several fish at a time. My experience has convinced me that a number of flies attract fish, whether trout or bass, and the more you can conveniently use the greater will be your success.
Black bass abound in the northern waters, where they are invariably trolled for with two rods, one on each side of the boat, in the same manner as in taking pickerel, but two rods are a great additional trouble, for when a fish strikes one the other has to be reeled up by your boatman, lest the hooks sink to the bottom. If the boat is kept in motion, it is almost impossible to reel in a large bass, and would make a labor of a pleasure, even if he should be eventually captured.
A small trolling spoon is excellent bait, probably preferable to the fly at all seasons except the middle of July, when the eel-fly, the principal food of the bass, is just disappearing, and the artificial fly is then a luxury. In case a spoon is used, the shank of the hook is usually wound with ibis feathers, and a Buel’s patent is the favorite. It has been recommended at times to fasten a forked piece of pickerel tongue on the bend of your fly-hook, but like a similar direction as to a worm on a trout fly-hook, I have no faith in it. Another successful bait that has, in my opinion, more reputation than value, is the kill-devil, a creature that is beyond my powers of description, and must be seen to be appreciated.
The hours and days favorable for fishing are, in the main, similar for all fish; if the water is deep or turbid there may be an exception, but generally a southwesterly wind, a cloudy sky, and the morning and evening hours, will yield the best sport. This is so for black bass, and the more wind the better, until it becomes difficult to row and manage the boat. In the western wilds, where deer are plentiful, an attractive fly is made by tying a white and red tuft of deer’s hair along the shank of the hook; the thread being passed round the middle of the tuft, allows the upper part of the hairs to be bent back by the motion through the water, giving an appearance of life to the bait.
An ingenious mode of proceeding is suggested in Brown’s Angler’s Guide, that is worthy of young American genius, to which it is attributed. A boy having caught a sun-fish, runs his hook through its nose and out at its mouth, covering the point with a lively worm. Other sun-fish, seeing their fellow have all to himself a fine, fat worm which he seems unable to master, collect round him, and by their numbers attract the bass, who dashes in among them, and while the rest make off, swallows the one with the worm, and of course himself falls a prey to the ingenious young fisherman. This like the use of cray-fish, mice, swallows, and many other baits, may be excellent, but I have never tried it or them; so long as the fish will take a fly, I fish with nothing else; it is infinitely more exciting to kill one fish on the fly than ten with bait.
Black bass are taken among the Thousand Isles in immense numbers, but not of any great size, rarely exceeding three pounds. In Lake Champlain, near Rouse’s Point, and in the lakes of Canada, they grow larger. The largest, probably, never exceeding eight pounds. They are taken in most of the waters of the northern and northwestern States, especially in the Niagara and Detroit rivers, Lake St. Clair, Lake Erie and Lake Huron. They make their appearance from deep water in May and June, grow to great excellence in July and August, but are in their best condition in September and October. They are a fine, noble game fish, and where trout are not to be had are well worthy of the sportsman’s attention; when captured, which can only be done by skill and care, they prove an excellent addition to the table.
The fish usually known as trout at the South, albeit that name is applied to many varieties, is a species of black bass, and is taken by trolling with a rod and short line before the boat as it is rowed along.