Monday, November 10, 2008

I Go Ice Fishing and Find Big Foot Stranded on the Ice

The other day I got up my courage, jumped into an extra pair of longjohns, and took off for the Salmon Creek Reservoir to fish through the ice.

A couple of years ago one of the girls in my Sunday School class told me she went ice fishing with her family in Southern Idaho and that she had fun.

They caught some nice trout.

Her thought stuck in my head and I decided to give it a try this year since ice fishing can be fun.

I could see those trout a sizzling in the fry pan.

Up where my oldest son lives in Michigan they put out their little fishing houses until the spring thaw when a number of them, along with automobiles, sink into the lake.

During the summer they build a new fish hut or whatever they choose to call it.

I don?t have a fish hut so up here in Idaho I would have to stand out on the ice and freeze my buns.

Actually because of my lousy heart history I?m not supposed to go out on a reservoir no more than I?m supposed to take a July stroll in the Sahara. But the weather had warmed up to freezing and I decided to give ice fishing a go.

The road was pretty crummy to the lake but I made it in fine fiddle.

The first thing I noticed when I got there was that I didn?t have a valid Idaho fishing license. A new year had slipped in on me.

Well, we old people can be forgetful and the fish warden would understand.

I pulled the hood of my barn coat over my knit cap to cut out the wind that never stops blowing up here. The barn coat was a gift from my daughter in New York State who understands the word cold.

Well, she should. She was raised in Iowa.

Next I opened the back of my Toyota minivan and noticed that, although I had my tackle box, I had no fishing pole.

I distinctly remembered that I had looked over my collection of a zillion poles and favored the one my grandkids are not allowed to touch.

But it wasn?t there.

What I did remember to bring was one of those cheap white chairs made from recycled plastic. I had also remembered to bring the new binoculars I got from my wife for my birthday who bought them when I pointed at them in the case at the Big Five Sporting Goods Store in Twin Falls.

The binoculars are Barsk X-Trail?, 15 x 70. They come with a very large carrying case, which I?m sure could be used as a backpack, and with a tripod.

It says $119.95 on the box but my wife paid less than half that using my American Express? card.

Before we bought them, I got permission to take them outside the store to look at the moon. The moon was full so I didn?t think I would see much detail like you can when the moon is partly in shadow.

Someone is building a greenhouse up there!

I set in my chair and scanned the reservoir. There was not a sole around and the cold was already seeping into my old bones.

I decided so much for ice fishing in the winter in Idaho.

That?s when I saw my old friend Big Foot.

Well, I heard him before I saw him.

He called, ?Is that you, Taylor Jones, the hack writer??

I scanned the ice and there he was, sprawled out on the ice as flat as a pancake.

I?m always amazed over his superior eye sight.

I yelled as loudly as I could, ?Yes!?

His roar came back across the ice and echoed from the rocks above me, ?I thought I could smell you! Can you help me? I?m stuck on thin ice!?

Some woodsman!

I yelled, ?I?m coming to get you!?

I chucked the chair in the back of the Toyota and drove across the dam to the west side of the lake. I wasn?t sure how the road would be. It?s bad enough in the summer time. I found it to be clear of snow from the latest warm spell yet the ground was frozen.

As I bumped along the road I tried to think how I could help Big Foot without any rope. There were some big pieces of cardboard from flattened boxes in the back of the Toyota. My scheme was to push them out to him and then to pull him off the ice.

We ex-engineers are full of such schemes.

My wife says that is not all we are full of.

It took me about an hour to get to him.

Actually, I found him walking up the road.

I jumped out of the car and said, ?Thank God you are safe!?

Big Foot said, ?Gotcha!

What ya? got to eat??

The End copyright?2007 John Taylor Jones, Ph.D.

John T. Jones, Ph.D. (tjbooks@hotmail.com, a retired VP of R&D for Lenox China, is author of detective & western novels, nonfiction (business, scientific, engineering, humor), poetry, etc. Former editor of Ceramic Industry Magazine. He is Executive Representative of IWS sellers of Tyler Hicks wealth-success books and kits. He also sells TopFlight flagpoles. He calls himself Taylor Jones, the hack writer.

More info: http://www.tjbooks.com

Business web site: http://www.tjbooks.com.


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