the first time: it is then called a
"smolt," and is from six to eight inches long, still living in the river
where it was hatched. In the third stage, after its return from the sea
to its native river, it is called a "grilse," and weighs from three to
six pounds. It can be distinguished from a salmon, even of the same
size, by its forked tail (that of the salmon being square) and the
slight adhesion of the scales. The grilse is wonderfully active and
spirited, and will often give as much play as a salmon of three times
his size. After the second visit of the fish to the sea he returns a
salmon, mature, brilliant and vigorous, and increases in weight every
time he revisits the ocean, where most of his food is found, consisting
of small fish and crustacea.
As we dropped down the stream toward the camp we saw a squirrel swimming
across the river. Paddling toward him, Peter reached out his pole, and
the squirrel took refuge upon it and was lifted on board--a pretty
little creature, gray and red, about half the size of the common gray
squirrel of the States. He ran about the canoe so fearlessly that I
think he must have been unacquainted with mankind. He skipped over us as
if we had been logs, with his bead-like eyes almost starting from his
head with astonishment, and then mounting the prow of the canoe,
On the bows, with tail erected,
Sat the squirrel, Adjidaumo.
Presently we paddled toward the shore, and he jumped off and disappeared
in the bushes, with a fine story to tell to his friends of having been
ferried across by strange and friendly monsters. Kingfisher got eleven
salmon to-day, and the Colonel one.
_July 7_ was Sunday, and the pools were rested, as well as ourselves,
from the fatigues of the week. Kingfisher brought out his materials and
tied a few flies, such as he thought would suit the river. This he does
very neatly, and I think he belongs to the old school of anglers, who
believe in a great variety of flies.
It may not perhaps be generally known that there are two schools among
fly-fishers. The "formalists" or entomologists hold that the natural
flies actually on the water should be studied and imitated by the
fly-maker, down to the most minute particulars. This is the old theory,
and whole libraries have been written to prove and illustrate it, from
the _Boke of St. Albans_, written by the Dame Juliana Berners in 1486,
down to the present day. The number of insects which we are directed t
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