Last week a friend called.
“Wanna go ice-fishing?” he asked.
The question raised conflicts.
First, my wife had the day planned. No, that’s not true because planned is too mild a word. She had my day fully scheduled.
Our house is small, about 1,000 square feet. It has no basement and no second story, thus there is nowhere to hide. So for mutual protection during the winter months, my wife schedules our weekends at opposite ends of the house. The only escape is outside, beyond shouting distance, hence the appeal of ice-fishing and the root of my second conflict.
People who do not live where men walk on water, imagine ice-fishing as something enjoyable. They have romantic notions of a hut on skids, a place where buddies chug-a-lug cheap beer while gazing at a hole in the floor in zen-like meditation.
Sorry – but that is called meditating in a shack, not ice-fishing.
Ice-fishing is best described as squatting on an upturned plastic bucket in a place where fish prefer to be rather than fishermen.
You see, fish know all about escaping from wives. They know all about beer and zen-like meditation – because their very lives depend upon it. After all, who wants to be dragged into a dimly lit den and clubbed with a pipe by guys whose breath stinks of cheap beer?
That is what Biker bars are for.
Which is why fish never congregate below fish-shacks. Instead they hang out in the most miserable part of the lake, preferably under a railroad trestle or a busy free-way bridge.
The real desirable fish, the big tasty ones, have another trick. They hide with their least desirable cousins. Which brings me back to my friend.
He likes to fish, not sit around in a shack. He also lusts for our region’s least tasty and most unappealing fish – namely the Official Minnesota State Fish Of Winter, the eelpout.
Believe me, the eelpout is the only critter God ever disavowed making. Even christian fundamentalists blame the eelpout on evolution so as not to undermine their claim of divine creation.
It also tastes worse than its name. The eelpout is the liver & onions of fish. In case you doubt that, do you recall hearing about parents who forced their children to gag down cod-liver oil? Guess what? A tenth of an eelpout’s body-mass is cod-liver oil.
If ever there was a fish made not to be caught, this is it. So what does my buddy want to fish for? You guessed it.
“So, what you wanna do,” he demanded to know.
I weighed the options: a) trapped in a small house with my wife or b) squatting on an upturned plastic bucket in below zero weather?
“It’s a tough call.
Almost Iowa 
Wow – this close to Christmas I’d think you’d be angling (pun) to get into wife’s good graces. Whether that means staying home or going fishing is the question!
We have a long winter ahead of us. It’s best to spend our together time wisely for there will come a point in late February where all the love and attention in the world will not prevent us from snarling at each other. It’s a trapped-in-the-house-up-north-thing.
My most despised Minnesota fish is the bullhead. Dare I write that on a blog titled “Almost Iowa?”
P.S.: I’ve never seen or tasted an eelpout. But, if I did, I might just rank that so-called fish alongside bullheads.
I don’t share you opinion on bullheads. I find them the most noble of fish. Granted. they are bottom-dwellers who survive on garbage but someone has to be responsible and recycle the swamp. But beyond that, they are the most cantankerous and grumpy of creatures which according to my loved ones and friends, describes me perfectly.
So then, you really ought to attend Bullhead Days in Waterville, MN., self-proclaimed Bullhead Capitol of the World. Perhaps the locals would crown you Grand Marshal of the parade.
Although I dearly love the fish, I rarely get along with their supporters. They accuse me of being too bullheaded. (snarf).
[Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Thanks for the heads-up though, it sounds like fun. I will have to consult my social director to see if she can schedule it in.]
You went and did it. You wrote one funny post here. Unfortunately (I seem to be using that word a lot lately) cod liver oil reminded me of an even worse taste. Castor oil. Talk about bad taste. My mother used to think that castor oil and Vicks Vapor Rub would cure anything. It would if it didn’t kill you first.
Ooooh, castor oil….. (the painful memories of my childhood).
“Biker bars are for that.” Bwahahaha. It’s going to be a long cold winter, I can tell.
Why? Do you like biker bars too? I’d spend more time in our local version, The Pit, but I’ve been 86’d on account of my surly and cantankerous nature.
No, it was just the first phrase in your post that made me LOL. Surly and cantankerous makes for good writing evidently.
I was just teasing you… It’s what surly and cantankerous old men do.
Tease away, I can take it!
I’m guessing here you haven’t got a pub just down the road!
We do but the pubs move out onto the lakes during fishing hours. The ones that don’t, you wouldn’t want to drink in.
A boozer on a lake – that’s a first for me! I guess the jellied eels are on tap!
Watch the movie, Grumpy Old Men to get a feel for ice fishing in Minnesota. The film’s ice fishing scenes were shot just east of here. In the winter, city snow plows clear streets on the ice and post signs with the street names at the intersections. Mille Lacs lake has it’s own post office on the ice. When it’s -30C, you have to make the best of it.
Netflicks here I come!
No door number 3, Bob?
When your day begins with those two options, it is not wise to tempt fate further.