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RECOMMENDED READING |  |
| TNS - Conserving Nova Scotia's Trout |
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RECOMMENDED READING | |
| TNS - Conserving Nova Scotia's Trout |
| We welcome reader input. Non Fiction The Tent Dwellers by Albert Bigelow Paine A 1908 Nova Scotia trout fishing trip. Hilarious adventures with accurate descriptions of the Nova Scotia woods and lakes. Nova Scotia's Speckled Trout versus The Angling Novice by H.E. (Ted) Parker The Introduction begins ... "I am convinced that my obsession with angling was not acquired. I was born with it." In the text Ted recounts the many streams he has fished and so this volume is far more than an introduction to angling. Discover Nova Scotia Sportfishing by Don MacLean A season-by-season fishing guide to Nova Scotia A Little Thing I Tied Myself by Don MacLean The history, stories and profiles of past and present prominent fly-tiers throughout Atlantic Canada. There's some great patterns and tips throughout this book (if only I could remember them). Living With Trout ... A Lifelong Adventure by Reg Baird The St. Mary's and Other Waters by Charles Widgery |
Book Excerpts Farm-Cottage, Camp and Canoe in Maritime Canada by Silver, Arthur P. Published in London by George Routledge & Sons, Limited., 1907 Edited by Michael Murray Arthur Peters Silver (1851-1908) was born in Nova Scotia. His only book, Farm-Cottage, Camp and Canoe in Maritime Canada was published after his death. The book consists of vignettes of rod, reel and gun in Maritime Canada and contains many wonderful photographs from the turn of the 20th century. The following text, taken from Chapter 5, captures the magic of a spring mayfly hatch and the resulting frenzy of feeding trout. ........ On the shores of the lake there seemed to be no one place more likely than another for a cast. Almost everywhere the water was dimpled by the rising trout. Faint puffs of a balmy westerly breeze kept incessantly driving the mayflies, weak on the wing, in masses to the sheltering lee side of the boulders and behind clumps of alder coppice, until there the atmosphere looked as if filled with a dense smoke. The faintest breath, catching the feeble insects newly emerged from their cases, scattered them in multitudes over the surface of the lake, to be eagerly seized by the feeding trout. On occasions the trout appeared to collect in a big school and make a complete circuit of the lake at the distance of a moderate cast from the shore. Should one rise at this juncture, he is usually marvelously unsophisticated in his procedure. The water fairly 'boils' as they break briskly in their progress of triumph, greedily gorging themselves until they become almost entirely indifferent to the artificial lure, although positively ravenous for the half-dead ephemerae. They can now at length forget the hard fare of the long winter days before the loosening of the ice, when they languidly sought for spots of open water and not to seize the bit of pork let down through the ice hole by the rustic urchin, or a pectoral fin of one of their own brethren dangled in the open water of the 'run in'. The mayfly soon puts in the pink of condition the lively fish which swim in the pellucid waters of such a clear rock-margined lake as this. Note the small well-shaped head, the broad back, the well-proportioned form, the swift dash at the fly, and the spirited contest for dear life as the slender 6-oz. rod is arched to the butt by some plump gamey trout, not much over the pound, whose pluck and leaping powers are often rewarded by escaping his fate within the very jaws of the landing net.... The Fishing Tourist by Charles Hallock, Published by Harper & Brothers, 1873, p. 126-128 Edited by Michael Murray Charles Hallock,(b.1834-d.1917) has been called the dean of outdoor writers. Born in New York city he lived briefly in Halifax in 1865-66. He was editor of Forest and Stream, one of the early outdoor magazines and a pioneer sport angler. The following excerpt, from his book The Fishing Tourist, demonstrates why Nova Scotia became a favoured destination for "sports" from the northeastern United States. .... leaving word for Johnny and Joe to expect us in the morning, we drive to Charley Lovetts hospitable inn, six miles farther (from Chester NS). There we shall enjoy the full fruition of the anglers hopes, without one drawback or vexation to mar its ripe perfection. "There'll be no sorrow there." Private parlor and bedroom with gossamer curtains; sheets snowy white; bouquets.of wild flowers, renewed every day; boots blacked in the morning; a rising bell, or a little maids tap at the door; breakfast under hot covers—broiled salmon, baked trout with cream, omelettes, toast, broiled beefsteak, (everybody else fries it down there,) coffee, eggs, milk, wild honey, and "all that sort of thing ad libitum, ad infinitum". At seven o'clock, sharp, every morning, the wagon is brought to the door and loaded. In the hinder part we stow a hamper of biscuit and cheese, sandwiches, cold ham, sardines, sometimes a boiled lobster (they catch them here by the thousand and can them for market), hard-boiled eggs, bottles of claret and Bass beer, a big chunk of ice, a couple of lemons, salt, pepper, and sugar, with all table utensils necessary; also pickles. This is for luncheon. We never carry pie; it squashes. Under the seats we place our waterproofs, wading trousers, and extra boots and socks; then we light pipes or cigars and mount to our seats; Charley hands us our rods, which we nurse tenderly, and giving the word "go", we rattle off under the respectful but admiring gaze of a dozen lobster-crackers going to work in the factory, and of all the early risers in the village. For, be it known, this diurnal departure and the arrival of the stage at noon, are the great events of the passing days. At sundown the wagon will be sent to the river to bring us back with our trophies. It is a great satisfaction to be able to exhibit the trophies of ones skill or endeavor. The two greatest rewards of effort are the accomplishment of something to be done, and the praise which follows success. Indeed, they are the only substantial pleasures of life. Poor satisfaction is it to catch fish when you cannot bring them home; indifferent reward to contemplate by ones self a hard-won conquest after days of travel and nights of toil, with only a wilderness stream to reflect the image of his disgust and discontent. Chester is one of the very few places where the luxury of fishing can be enjoyed without this alloy. And there is not only one river, but three, within six miles of your home. You can drive half way to Gold River, and fish the Middle River, a tolerable stream, or take the opposite direction to the East River, a glorious runway for salmon, with splendid falls and cold brooks tumbling into it at intervals, at the mouth of which large trout can be caught two at a time, if the angler be skillful enough to land them when they are hooked. If one chooses, he can put up at Mrs. Frailss, upon the very bank of this stream, and take his morning and evening fishing, with a noon siesta and a quiet cigar and book; and it is not improbable that he will meet some officers from Halifax, now thirty-nine miles away by the stage route. Between this and Indian River, before mentioned, there is no good fishing. |
| NS Fishing | Fly patterns I Hatch chart I Recommended reading I Keji Brook Trout Census |