MyFishFinder.com Just like iceshanty but warmer
I was looking for a written answer too. I read through them all and I still like richstick's post the best. He described to me the perfect night on the ice. His response was so descriptive and imaginative that I actually felt like I was there answering that flag with him! I could see every detail as he pulled that big ole walleye up onto the ice. He captured the essence of what ice-fishing is all about. Tip-up's picture just naturally goes with richstick's description of the flag going off. Were it up to me, they both would get a hat...Mike
Ever been on a frozen sheet of glass at nightfall? Mother Nature's icy grip begins to take hold. A scant 4 inches of new formed ice is the window that separates you from the underwater world. The sun tucks behind the towering red pines on the horizon as you scan your tipup set, eager for the first flag of the year. Steam rises from your coffee cup, warming your lips as you gaze intently at the rotating dial of your flasher. The gentle hum of the sonar, and the whispering breeze are the only sounds on this crisp clear evening. You feel it before you see it, the spindle turns, the flag arches into the air with authority. Hardly able to contain yourself, you force your feet to take it slowly to the tipup. The spindle turns, slowly, steadily. Kneeling down, you contemplate the biggest mystery in all of the angling world. Walleye? Pike? Even a jumbo perch or burbot is a possibility on this rocky ledge. Like a father with his newborn child, you remove the tipup from the hole, smoothly grasp the braided dacron line, and feel for the weight of the fish. A quick snap - fish on! A silent battle ensues as you ease your quarry towards the hole. The fish makes a final run, pulling line back down into the depths. A few seconds later, you finally catch a glimpse. Walleye. A good one. Your heart is pounding, and a silent prayer goes out: Please Lord, let me land this one, she's beautiful. You hear your father's voice in your ear - "gently son, that's it - ease her head into the hole" Then, she is on the ice. A healthy specimen, nature at it's finest. This fish must go 25,26 inches. You ease the treble hook from her mouth, pause a second to admire the golden green, shimmering in the rapidly failing sunlight. You slip her head into the water, and she smoothly takes flight, down back into the watery world to which she belongs. You stare after her, feeling the momentary regret of having let that fish go, but the deeper knowledge of just how precious a resource she is quickly reasons, settling your soul. You look around, there is not another soul in sight. The rest of the night, and the rest of the season await. Surely, hopefully, there are many more fish to come.
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Topic: [Contest WINNER] Why is ice fishin so darned addiciting? (Read 1704 times)
