^Tn^Z^Ei*] - Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission

Master Angler of Sullivan County
Veteran Caught The Big Ones With Cheap Tackle, Using Only
Worms As Bait
He lived with his old, gray-haired
wife in an isolated frame house in the
most thinly populated section of Sullivan
County, which all together has
only enough people to make a goodsized
borough. During trout seasons
he spent the daylight hours fishing.
In my many years of angling I have
known a number of men very adapt
at catching trout, but this friendly old
fellow in the "sticks" could give the
best of them a handicap and beat them
any day in the season at hooking
"speckled beauties."
How he did it, I do not know, for I
never had the privilege of seeing him
in operation along a trout stream. In
fact, he plainly shunned companionship
when it came to trout fishing. I
suspect others cramped his style, so he
preferred to be alone when visiting
his favorite holes and riffles in the Sullivan
County streams adjacent to his
lonely place.
I recall my first visit to this old
chap's stamping grounds. His step-son
took me and my good friend, Doc,
there early in this particular trout
season with the definite promise we'd
enjoy excellent trout fishing.
Our host's old mother, second wife
of the master angler of whom I am
writing, had ready for us when we
arrived a very inviting breakfast of
buckwheat cakes and canned sausage.
I remember how she bustled around
the big farmhouse kitchen that crisp
morning and how I marveled at her
activity. Even then she was so old she
was quite stooped and one had to
shout to make himself understood, for
her hearing was almost entirely gone.
Her husband, several years her junior
although quite ancient in his own
right, didn't permit us to linger long
over that satisfying breakfast.
"We better be gittin' out on those
streams," he said as he pushed back
the antique plank-bottom kitchen chair
on which he $[at. "There are some
guys from over in the coal regions up
here this spring and we'd better beat
'em to the good holes."
Dawn had but recently broken when
we stepped out on the back porch. I
had ben wondering what sort of tackle
the old angler used but wasn't too surprised
when he lifted from the corner
of the porch, where its tip rested
against the weatherboards, a steel telescope
rod such as could be purchased
By WILLIAM BOYD
THE OLD ANGLER
at any cut-rate sporting goods store for
$1.98.
The old fellow stepped down off the
porch and I was curious to see what he
was going to do about a creel, for he
had his rod in his hand and obviously
was all set to start out. Then he
reached under the porch steps and
produced a pail with a wire handle.
On it was a paper label indicating the
bucket originally had contained something
which his old helpmate had used
in the kitchen.
I inquired if he intended carrying
his minnows in the bucket and he replied:
"Naw, son, that there's my fish
holder. I like my trout nice and fresh
when I get 'em home, so I keep 'em
alive in this here pail." And later in
the day I learned this was the truth
and that he hadn't been kidding me,
which I had suspected at the time.
Further, he wasn't using minnows.
All he had for bait was red worms dug
in the abandoned barnyard on his
place. These he carried in a baking
powder can stuffed in his overall
pocket.
I wonder, too, what he was going to
do about negotiating the streams he
fished, for on his feet were a pair of
battered and patched hunting gums
which reached only half way up the
calves of his legs. An old black felt
hat with fish hooks stuck through the
band completed his fishing attire.
As we traversed the well beaten p a .
leading from the back porch to $
dusty road in front of the house,
old man gave us instructions. L
"I calculate you fellows better P 5 *.
Little Muncy this mornin', and if n" e '
ain't hittin' there try them two trit^
taries," and he gave us minute instr^jj
tions on the location of two si* 13
streams to which he referred.
Then and there he left us and ^
didn't see him again until late aft e
noon.
"The old rascal!" exclaimed his st e Pj
son. "He doesn't want to be bother e
with us, but I know he is sending
to the best trout waters in these V aT \
Now if either of you want to lay
small wager that he won't have ni c I
trout at the end of the day than tJ1
three of us combined I'll take y°
bets and give you liberal odds."
He told us what he knew about &
stepfather's fishing practices as ^
three of us walked together down *|
dusty road toward Little Muncy Cref^
"He has never taken me with b 1 ^!
either," our friend said, "but a j \
seasons ago I stumbled upon him Wi* 1
the two of us were fishing up he
He hadn't invited me to fish with *^
so I knew he didn't want me too n e jj.
He hadn't spotted me, for I was qui e •*
fishing a pool when I heard him ^
stream, so I slipped into the un A
brush of the stream's bank &
watched him.
"Pop's just like an Indian in \.
woods both when he's fishing and h u vV
ing, so I wasn't surprised when I s \
him crawl on his stomach to a si 0 ..
pool where the water swirled ufl a .
the submerged roots of an old &
stump. «j
"He looked at the worm on his n° g
and then adjusted that old teles'^
rod of his until it wasn't more than
feet long. Then he reached out c 3
ously with one arm and dropped .
hook into the water around the \ A
roots. In only a few seconds he I |
as quietly flipped a dandy brook tr J
out on the bank by his side, f 1 ^
back to where his water-filled pail ^
standing, took the trout carefully
the hook, and put it in the pail- j.
"Believe it or not, the old boy to"". l "~0{
three more beautiful brookies rookies oU* o
that small hole while I watched &n
u . , iii
my hiding place. Then I sneaked a^' tf
PENNSYLVANIA ANG 1,
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