Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-02-09
How the Sportsman Makes Himself
Comfortable on a wfnd.vept Lake
The First Catch.
From the New York Evening Post.

From the New York Evening Post.
In January came the hoped-for snap"
and after four successive days of still, cold.
zero weather. the lake closed over from
shore to shore, and the moro venturesome
of the ice fishermen began to push their
little fishing shantieS out from the land.
Off Rocky Point the lake was dotted with
them, like d toy village, and We concluded
it was time to join the busy settlement. 1t
was something of task to drag and pry
our shanty over mixed sand and snow to
the edge of the ice: but once on that
smooth. black. glary field, stretching away
westward for eight miles without break,
we two could have pushed it along with a
finger apiece.
We chose a spot a little apart from the
other fishing huts, over a reef where We
had had good sport fishing for pike during
the summer. In fishing, if you have no
other guide, 1t is always well to choose a
spot where the floor of the lake or stream
is broken by some inequality, either a sand
bar, reef, or even a sunken log or boat.
Fish gather in such q spot, just ~ wild
animals gather about a hut in the woods
or a rock in the fields. There is a sugGes-
ton of shelter or protection in anything
large enough to attract attention at a little
distance in the water; and, perhaps, too,
the roof or sandbar is recognized by fishes
DIS d convenient pace 10 meet one aNOtler
and pass the time of day, just as ioafers
choose a corner in the city, which breaks
the long. indefinite monotony OF the street.
The ice was SO thick and black, and the
water underneath SO dark, that we could
not, of course, see the reef over which We
wished to cut our fish hole. But we knew
from familiar landmarks exactly where it
was, so, while one OF us held the shanty, to
prevent its gliding away in the brisk wind,
the other took the Ratchet and chopped
hole in the ice about a. foot in diameter.
AT "a depth of seven or eight inches the
last stroke of the Ratchet made d passage
for the squirting, surgling water, and.
knocking away the crumbling crust that
still remained we had round hole at our
service large enough to accommodate the
biggest muscallonge in the lake.
The next thing to do was to plant our
fishing hut SO that the aperture We had cut
in the floor would come directly over the
hole in the ice. We then anchored the hut
by cutting smaller holes and driving in four
pegs, one on each side, and filling the holes
around the pegs with water, which soon
froZe and held them perfectly tight. To
make all secure We scored shallow trenches
along the edges of the runners, and filled
these also with water, which hardened and
held our house-sledge like wise.
After building d fire in the small sheet
iron stove inside, we were ready to begin
the sport of the day, in perfect comfort.
Can you imagine anything more luxurious
or fascinating than fishing through the ice,
camp chairs. sheltered from(he biting wind
outside and surrounded by all the little
comforts of a modern sportsman, from
pipes and tobacco to outing literature? We
had taken off gloves and mittens. thrown
open our coats, rugged our tackle at our
ease, baited our hooks with strips of salt
pork, and were now sitting, one on each
side of the fish hole, dangling our lines
companiona,bly in ten feet of water. The
wind whistled over our little hut, and we
could hear ii sweeping away across the ice
with dry, rustling sound, but not Whit
of IT disturbed the lazily floating smoke of
our pipes. We were as snug and coy as
the proverbial bug In a rug and yet wide
awake and keenly alive to the Joys of a
midwinter day.
For five minutes, perhaps. We sat COM
piacently smoking and "bobbing' our lines
up and down, to attract the attention of
any passing fish. Then my compa Mon
threw his hand up suddenly and sharply,
rested the pull of the line for an instant
and began to haul it in hand over hand
He had felt bite. and had struck Just in
the nick of time to hook his fish.
Now, there is a peculiar flavor Of excite
ment in pulling a struggling fish out of a
big lake through a hole in the floor into a
very small house. particularly the first fish
OF the season. 1t is a rather odd experience
as any one will testify who has been
through it. So there was a simultaneous
flying Of pipes and scattering of tobacco. as
there suddenly flashed up out of darkness
into our very faces the cleaning, writing.
Tapping body of a two-pound pickereI his
sharp-toothed jaws agape and his tall
tbreshing the tangled line. Down he came
on the pine floor with slap, and drummed