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This matter is much in need of further investigation; at present, however, we find no reason to believe that the salmon enter the Rogue River simply because they were spawned there, or that a salmon hatched in the Clackamas River is any the more likely on that account to return to the Clackamas than to go up the Cowlitz or the Deschutes.
One winter day, rattling over the icy fords of the road winding down the Sandy from the white Cascades, crossing the Clackamas, threading the intervening fringe of forest, there broke into the clearing at Oregon City the head of the wagon train of 1848.
It has been questioned whether the present hatchery on the Clackamas River actually receives the quinnat salmon in any numbers. It is asserted, in fact, that the eggs of the silver salmon and dog salmon, with scattering quinnat, are hatched there. We have no exact information as to the truth of these reports, but the matter should be taken into serious consideration.
We reached Portland, California and I crying for salmon, and a real-estate man, to whom we had been intrusted by an insurance man, met us in the street, saying that fifteen miles away, across country, we should come upon a place called Clackamas, where we might perchance find what we desired.
Among the women outside of Portland who put their shoulders to the wheel were Mrs. Clara Waldo, Marion county; Mrs. Emma Galloway, Yamhill; Dr. Anna B. Reed, Linn; Mrs. Elizabeth Lord, Wasco; Professor Helen Crawford, Benton; Mrs. Henry Sangstacken, Coos; Mrs. Imogene Bath, Washington; Mrs. Rosemary Schenck, Lincoln; Mrs. Minnie Washburn, Lane, and Mrs. Eva Emery Dye, Clackamas. Miss Clay, Mrs.
And California, his coat-tails flying in the wind, ran to a livery-stable and chartered a wagon and team forthwith. I could push the wagon about with one hand, so light was its structure. The team was purely American that is to say, almost human in its intelligence and docility. Some one said that the roads were not good on the way to Clackamas, and warned us against smashing the springs.
A wild scutter in the water, a plunge, and a break for the head-waters of the Clackamas was my reward, and the weary toil of reeling in with one eye under the water and the other on the top joint of the rod was renewed. Worst of all, I was blocking California's path to the little landing bay aforesaid, and he had to halt and tire his prize where he was. "The father of all the salmon!" he shouted.
Get such a stream amid fields of breast-high crops surrounded by hills of pines, throw in where you please quiet water, long-fenced meadows, and a hundred-foot bluff just to keep the scenery from growing too monotonous, and you will get some faint notion of the Clackamas. The weir had been erected to pen the Chenook salmon from going further up-stream.
It contains 69,120 acres, and was set apart for their occupation by treaty of Jan. 22, 1855, with the Molallas, Clackamas, &c., and by executive order of June 30, 1857. Some portions of this reservation are well adapted to grain-raising, though much of it is rough and heavily timbered.
That was a day to be remembered, and it had only begun when we drew rein at a tiny farm-house on the banks of the Clackamas and sought horse feed and lodging, ere we hastened to the river that broke over a weir not a quarter of a mile away.
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