It was warm – a balmy 25 degrees.  Of course, after surviving ice fishing the previous weekend in single-digit temps and below-zero wind chills, 25 degrees felt warm – very, very warm.  The sun was also making its presence known — starting its slow descent into the western Michigan sky, and helping to cast my shadow against the frozen ice.

And there was another shadow beside me as well.

Since all of our previous ice fishing excursions involved much preparation and fanfare – loading quads, driving through a foot of snow across gigantic inland lakes, and blistery, sub-zero conditions – we were ready to just sit back, take in some simple ice fishing, and let the world go by.  We wanted a simple ice fishing experience – no quads, minimal preparation, and a short walk to and from a vehicle………because you never can tell when that extra shadow may tire of its first ice fishing experience.

Pine Lake is only about a fifteen minute drive from our house.  The lake is quiet, not very big, and it’s easy to get in and out of; that made it a perfect lake to test out Abby’s ice fishing stamina.  And, honestly, she lasted longer than I thought she would.

We were informed the previous day that sledding down a hill at a pretty good clip isn’t really her thing, so we went into this little adventure with open minds.  My backpack, which normally this time of year would be full of extra gloves, toe warmers, hot chocolate, toilet paper, and other such necessities, was now loaded with a juice cup and My Little Pony fruit snacks – all the necessities that come with making an ice fishing trip a memorable one.

From the very beginning she was completely intrigued, and wanted to know everything I was doing.  She was curious about the auger; she was curious about the hole I made in the ice; and she was curious about everything I touched.  At first, she took to the fishing like a natural – moving the rod tip up and down, and jigging like she had been doing it for years – but as the time began to tick by, she started to get bored.

Then I caught a fish.

She reeled that thing in like a pro, but wanted nothing to do with kissing it or throwing it back.  And then, shortly after that, as I was fishing and her mom was videotaping her, she started the ancient art of fish calling.  I hadn’t heard of this particular skill before, but she was a natural and started to call for the fish to “come out”.  At first the fish didn’t exactly respond to her newly acquired art form, but after a few minutes one did finally respond to her “call”, and I made an amazing one-handed hook set while fishing with my pole, and holding onto my wife’s pole.

And it made the entire effort completely worth it.

Sadly, though, soon after that, as the sun was beginning to set, and as Abby was starting to lose her patience, we packed up and headed to the truck.

We did manage to put 10 fish in the shanty, but it was about much, much more than that.  It was about family.  It was about Abby.  It was about all of us.  It was a simple, sunny Sunday in late January on a southern Michigan lake.  It was about being in nature, and sharing in simple pleasures.  It was a day I had dreamed of when Abby was nothing more than a beating heart on a CRT monitor.

It was a day she’ll never remember, and a day I’ll never forget.

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