It happens every winter, like clockwork. They arrive out on the frozen ponds and reservoirs. They scatter over the frozen terrain and huddle over holes in hopes of catching something besides a cold. They are out there, day and night while the wind howls and the snow swirls around their ankles. Old toboggans piled high with supplies for fshing and sustenance bring the occasional fisherman to their own little spot on the ice. Others, those that come every day, set up huts and tents, their own little spot in the world.
I've wondered, "Why, oh why do they go ice fishing?" as I drive by. Yet, the answer may be as simple as the answer to "Why build a fort out of blankets!" We are all looking for our own little space in the world!