Hook, line, and sinker...

From the north side porch...

I had the fortunate opportunity to introduce a youngster to the most awesome world of ice fishing today.  He is the oldest son of one of my very best friends in life and there is no question that there will be plenty of memorable times ahead.  So for today, the story is all about Mr. Trout...

We arrived at the family camp in the midst of a surprise snow shower and put fifteen traps in just before ten o'clock.  Mr. Trout at five years of age jumped right into the process clearing the holes of ice and slush, making sure no spot in the cove went without a footprint, and raising my dad's blood pressure since he was convinced that Mr. Trout would somehow circumnavigate any trap which would result in unforeseen immersion...

Shortly after set up, I opened camp and fired up the stove.  It was somewhat colder than yesterday, but I wanted to make sure our rookie ice fisherman was a happy ice fisherman.  Now all I needed was a flag...

That flag came in due time and we embarked on the single most impressive challenge of the day, making sure Mr. Trout brought in the fish.  With persistent coaching and encouragement, Mr. Trout pulled the brook trout from the ice...

With all the newness of the experience, he wasn't quite sure how to handle the importance of this landmark achievement.  On one hand, here I was doing my best to get a photo while a proud dad was taking the moment in.  I'm still sure that my father was worried that the exposed hole needed to be filled in with cement so the youngster wouldn't get immersion hypothermia.  Needless to say, one kid had a few minutes of mayhem and excitement that forced the day into a success...

The excitement of the catch...

Excited son and proud dad...

From that point on, I had help with tending the gear and knew he had been caught hook, line, and sinker especially when he asked if my girls were coming the "next time we go ice fishing"...

Several highlights for me were of the comical sense.  Perhaps the favorite was when my buddy took Mr. Trout to the outhouse.  I explained that the "poop house" was the most important spot in the compound.  As Mr. Trout neared the structure and I opened the door he proclaimed with gigantic eyes, "wow, a house made just for pooping".  Classic and awesome at the same time.  Another highlight was when a second flag went up and Mr. Trout aptly offered to "handle this one".  Unfortunately this one yielded only a hit bait, but still I'm thrilled with the zeal in the excitement on the ice...

We packed up at one and made the voyage back.  As we rode, Mr. Trout who sat next to me in the back smiled and explained to me that he had caught the only trout today.  I look forward to our next adventure, the kids are getting to the age where they can join in on the action...

Take care,


The Downeast Duck Hunter