‘Twas the night before first ice, and all through the lake,
Not a fish had been stirring, not even a splake.
The buckets were filled with my rods and my tackle,
In hopes that the perch would like jigs trimmed with hackle.
The tip-ups were strung with nylon and leaders,
To deal with the teeth of big predator feeders.
The minnows were purchased and set on the steps,
The Vexilar charged to read various depths.
When out under the ice there arose such a clatter,
I sprang into my coveralls to assess the matter.
In the dark to the pickup I flew like a flash,
And drove to the station to fill the auger with gas.
Read the full story in your Tuesday, December 24th Times-Record. Purchase a paper copy at the TR office or an electronic edition online at www.times-online.com