Part 5

Salmo Purpuratus, or Clark’s trout.

The first named, called commonly by us the salmon trout, was abundant in all of the streams, from about middle of June until middle of September, evidently timing their arrival and departure by the movements of the salmon, upon whose eggs they live. I have noted, on June 1st, “No salmon trout yet in any of the streams. Several fine, large ones captured by the Indians in nets set in sea.” Ten days after, the streams were full of them, and in the earlier part of the interim many would run into the pools of the lower parts with the flooding tide, and out again on the ebb.

When they left us in September, it is probable that they migrated south, for in a letter to Forest and Stream, dated Portland, Oregon, September 28, a correspondent states that, in that month, “there begins to appear in the streams near the Columbia river, a trout,” whose description tallies exactly with that of the spec-tabilis, except that the correspondent speaks of their affording fine sport with the fly; this the trout while in Alaska fails to do. At first, the spectabilis affect the rapids, but after a few days seek the deep pools, where they gather in great numbers, and bite ravenously on hooks covered with spawn and sunk to the bottom. Occasionally, when spawn was out, we used a bit of fresh venison; but at the best they cared little for it, and when the blood became soaked out, the bait was useless. Although fairly gamey when hooked, fishing for these trout was but a poor substitute, for one who had felt and remembered the thrills caused by sudden strikes of our Adirondack fish. I have often when pool-fishing, seen them leisurely approach the bait, and nibble at it as a dainty, full-fed kitten will at a bit of meat, and when one did get the hook, we found it out only by a slight resistance to the series of light twitches which it was necessary to give it. They have evidently been taught by experience that salmon roe is not apt to attempt escape. The usual size of the fish ranged from six to twelve inches—now and then one larger. The largest taken by any of us, near Sitka, fell victim to my “salmon spawn fly,” and gave my little Orvis rod half an hour’s good work. It measured twenty-one inches, but was very light for the length, weighing but two and three-quarter pounds. At the Redoubt river, much larger ones were taken; and two which I shot in Beardslee river were over two feet in length; how much they weighed I never found out, for their surroundings of sick and dying salmon, upon whose eggs they were feeding, prejudiced me against them and I left them.

In shape and color the spectabilis vary greatly, both factors depending upon the length of time they have been in fresh water. When fresh run, they are long and lean, shaped somewhat like the lake trout of Adirondack lakes. The colors are dark lustrous olive-green back, growing lighter as the median line is approached, and blending into a silvery gray tint, which pales to a pure white on the belly; the green portion is sprinkled with golden specks; the flesh is hard, and very good for the table. After a very short sojourn in the creek, bright crimson specks appear among the golden, which, however, fade to a pale yellow; the lustre of the green disappears, they become heavier, but the flesh becomes soft and uneatable, and the skin is covered with slime. Salmon trout taken late in August and early in September, were full of ripe ova.

Professor Bean placed some fish, that had been taken in salt water, into a bucket of fresh, and the crimson spots made their appearance in less than a day.

When fully decked with these, and fattened, they resembled our fontanalis greatly—the head, however, being somewhat larger, and the tail less square.

Salmo Gardneri. My acquaintance with this species is very limited. The first one that I saw I took in Sawmill Creek, well up to the head, in September, 1879. Seeing that it differed greatly from the spectabilis, I preserved it in alcohol, and it was subsequently identified by Professor Bean. It measured a trifle over ten inches, and was very plump, weighing seven and a quarter ounces. In my notes, I describe it thus: “Body, dark green on back, but in general colors very much like a steel head or quinnat salmon; covered with round, black spots, from one-sixteenth to one-eighth inch in diameter; these extend considerably below the median line, and the tail and dorsal fins are covered with them; the second dorsal adipose, but less so than that of the fontanalis, having a slight show of membrane, on which there are four spots; ventral and anal fins, yellowish in centre, bordered with red; belly, dull white; tail, nearly square; scales, quite large, about the size of those of a fingerling chub; flesh, firm; and skin, not slimy. No signs of ova or milt.”

On the 28th of April, 1880, I made note: “The first salmon of the season made their début to-day—that is, if they are salmon, which I doubt.

“Five beauties, from thirty to forty inches long, were brought alongside, in a canoe paddled by a wild-looking and awe-struck Siwash, who, with his crouching Klootchman and papoose, gazed upon our ship, guns, and us with an expression that showed them to be unfamiliar sights. He was evidently a stranger, and was taken in, for he took willingly two bits (25 cents) each for the fish, and no Sitka Siwasli but would have charged treble the price. Through an interpreter, I learned that he had spent the last seven months in a shanty on the western side of Kruzoff Island, and that well up, among the foot-hills of Mount Edgecomb, there was a little lake, from which there flowed a small stream into the Pacific, and that in the headwaters of this stream he had speared these fish, which run up the stream in the fall, remain all winter in the lake, and in early spring spawn in the head of the outlet.”

All of this militated strongly against the theory that they were salmon, and when, on being dressed, the females were found to be full of ripe ova, said theory was upset completely. My ten-inch specimen of last September supplied us with a clue, and it was soon decided that these magnificent fish were indeed trout; for in every respect except size, and size of spots, some of which were a quarter of an inch in diameter, the fish were identical. Whitford, the oldest inhabitant, confirmed the Indian’s story, and gave me in addition the Indian name for the fish—Quot and that of the Russians, which I forget, but it meant “Mountain Trout,” and said that they are found only in the lakes, high up in the mountains, and that in winter the Indians spear and catch them through holes in the ice.

We found the flesh to be very delicious—far more so than the best of the salmon. The processes of cooking, both by broiling and boiling, had a curious effect, for the flesh, which, when uncooked, was of a very bright red, blanched to pure white.

The trip to Mount Edgecomb, in the early spring, involved hardship and danger; and although several of us resolved that we would undertake it, for the sake of such fish, somehow we never did, and I have thus described all of the gardneri that I ever saw.

Salmo purpuratus (Clarkii). The most beautiful of the trout family, although in no way equal to our Eastern trout in any other respect.

The purpuratus is a lake trout, and found only in low-lying lakes. Just back of Sitka, at the foot of the mountains, and elevated perhaps twenty feet above the sea, is a little lake dubbed by me “Piseco”.

Handy to get at, and its outlet running through the centre of the town, it became, in early spring, our first resort for fishing. Arriving in June, 1879, many of us had, through days of fruitless endeavor, during the summer and autumn, grown to disbelieve the tales of the inhabitants, that this lake abounded in trout; but on the 20th of May, 1880, from somewhere, there thronged the shallow edges, among the lily pads, great schools of these trout, and for about two weeks there was no limit to the number one could take of them. Salmon spawn was the best bait, but a bit of venison would answer. A fly they would not rise to. In size, they ranged from six to twelve inches—the latter size being, however, very exceptional; their average was about eight inches. The description in my notes is: “Specimen, May 27th. Length, nine and one-half inches; depth, two and three-eighth inches; weight, five ounces; colors—back, rich, dark brown, growing lighter toward medial line; at which, covering it for a space of half an inch, there is a longitudinal stripe of rich purple, extending from opercle nearly to tail; below the median line, bright olive-green, lightening to silvery white on belly. All of the tinted portion is profusely sprinkled with oval black spots, which mark also the dorsal, caudal, and adipose fins; the ventral and anal fins are yellowish bordered with crimson; tail, nearly square.

“The entire tinted portion has a beautiful golden iridescence, so that when held in the sunlight, and looked at from the rear, it seems to be gilded.” It may be noticed that, with the exception of the purple stripe and the golden iridescence, the description of this fish is almost identical with that of the gardneri. I think it quite possible that they are the same at different ages, and that later in life these Clarkii may become ambitious and seek more lofty lakes. None that were taken contained ova.

Where they came from, unless they run up the inlet at night, no one found out, for although closely watched in the daytime, none were ever seen in it.

After about two weeks the greater portion disappeared, and although sought in the deep waters of the lake, could not be found. Major William Governeur Morris, the Collector of Customs of Alaska, assures me, however, that during the summer of 1882, he found certain places in the lake where he caught them until August. On July 4th he with a friend catching four hundred and three in three hours, baiting with a single salmon egg.

I am not sure that we could not have again found them, but the fishing having grown slack in the lake, and growing daily better in the creeks, we spent most of our time on the latter.

COMPARISON OF ALASKA WITH EASTERN TROUT.

The principal differences between the Alaska and Eastern trout are, first, all Alaskans have hyoid teeth, the eastern trout have not.

No Alaskan trout will take a fly. All Alaskan trout, I think, spend a portion of their lives in salt water. Length being equal, the Alaska trout, with the exception of the Gardneri, or mountain trout, are lighter than those of our eastern streams.

Using as a standard the average weight of a number of ten-inch Adirondack trout, the following table will show this:

Fontanalis-Adirondack, length 10 inches, Fresh-run Spectabilis, „ 10 „ Crimson-specked „ 10.3 „ Sal mo Clarkii, „ 9 „ Salmo Gardneri, „ 10.1 „

In conclusion, I must again request that this contribution shall not be considered and judged as an attempt to scientifically describe the fish treated upon, but rather as what it really is, a condensation of the field-notes of an amateur angler.

I have, in giving the sizes, weights, and other data in regard to the Alaska salmon and trout, depended almost entirely upon my personal knowledge and experience; it may not be out of place to add to them some data gathered from reliable authorities.

In his report on the resources of Alaska, Major Mm. Governeur Morris writes: “Sixty thousand Indians and several thousand Aleuts and Esquimaux depend for the most part upon dried salmon for their winter sustenance.”

The Hon. Wm. S. Hodge, formerly Mayor of Sitka, states in an official report: “And additional testimony comes to us from numerous persons, that at Cook’s Inlet the salmon average in weight sixty pounds, and some of them reach a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds, and Mr. T. G. Murphy only last week brought down from there on the Newbern a barrel full, containing only four fish.” Surgeon Thomas T. Minor, who some years ago visited Cook’s Inlet, in connection with business of the Smithsonian Institution, makes statements which confirm the foregoing.