this water?

The keeper answers, with a grunt, that 'they allow themselves. That
there always were chub hereabouts, and always will be; for the more
he takes out with the net, the more come next day.'

Probably. No nets will exterminate these spawn-eating, fry-eating,
all-eating pests, who devour the little trout, and starve the large
ones, and, at the first sign of the net, fly to hover among the most
tangled roots. There they lie, as close as rats in a bank, and work
themselves the farther in the more they are splashed and poked by the
poles of the beaters. But the fly, well used, will--if not
exterminate them--still thin them down greatly; and very good sport
they give, in my opinion, in spite of the contempt in which they are
commonly held, as chicken-hearted fish, who show no fight. True; but
their very cowardice makes them the more difficult to catch; for no
fish must you keep more out of sight, and further off. The very
shadow of the line (not to mention that of the rod) sends them flying
to hover; and they rise so cautiously and quietly, that they give
excellent lessons in patience and nerve to a beginner. If the fly is
dragged along the surface, or jerked suddenly from them, they flee
from it in terror; and when they do, after due deliberation, take it
in, their rise is so quiet, that you can seldom tell whether your
fish weighs half a pound or four pounds and a half--unless you, like
most beginners, attempt to show your quickness by that most useless
exertion, a violent strike. Then, the snapping of your footlink, or-
-just as likely--of the top of your rod, makes you fully aware, if
not of the pluck, at least of the brute strength, of the burly
alderman of the waters. No fish, therefore, will better teach the
beginner the good old lesson, 'not to frighten a fish before you have