On the ice again

Sunday was a short break in the weather. Twenty seven degrees and a bit of low pressure spurred the ice fishing lust. Crappies and sunfish for the table and perhaps some hoarding if the gods allowed. Two holes were drilled. One at 13 feet and one at 17 feet. Prime numbers.

A little 1/16 oz. jig and a micro power grub should work. No bites after fifteen minutes. Brother Fife receives a call on the cellular. He is relaxing at home, revealing in the fact that there is no snow removal required this day. The Piscator could use some JuJu. His spirit higher than last we spoke, Fife conjures some stink and gives me  gridiron play off stats. Broncos ahead. Down goes the bobber and communication is terminated as a long fight ensues on four pound test for thirty inches of pike. Food procured. Mighty nice.

Two minutes later and another pike has taken the panfish bait. This one a beast. Seven minutes of back and forth on a miniature spinning outfit. A serious green gator shows its snout beneath the hole. A fleeting view of a skull that looks as wide as the eight inch hole. Down again it runs away from the ice and the annoying pressure from above. At twelve minutes into the contest, the fish is near the underside of the ice. And as its head touches............. unpinned.

The Piscator looked at his dogs and commented "Well shit, Henn - better call Fife back and thank him for the Juju!"