Page 05 - My Fine Feathered Friend

A lifetime or two ago, my friend Bob and I decided to build a superior ice shanty. One we could leave on the lake all winter, without damage, by the wind or snow.  

Bob a gentle giant measuring in at 6 foot 8 towering a good 4 inches above my balding head. We called ourselves the “honey-do twins” because we had the habit of allowing our honey-do list to become yellow, old, and crumbly.

Having a small lake just down the road we're always looking for an excuse to get far away, from our honey-do list. We enjoyed playing backgammon, sitting in front of a television watching football, drinking ice cold beer, along with assorted shots of Wild Turkey.

Both of us are well educated, so we decided to create a folding ice shanty. Something any ice fisherman would drool over. We had very specific requirements.

1)   It had to be tall.

2)   Capable of folding flat.

3)   A sturdy runner system.

4)   A cushioned bench.

5)   A clear plastic covering

 Bob would wander over on a Sunday afternoon just before the football games. Three full fingers of Wild Turkey were consumed before we picked up a single tool.

When we finished we called a family picnic to unveil our superior ice shanty. Everyone assembled taking their turn sitting on the custom cushioned bench. After the inspection we started to fold the ice shanty down as designed and quickly discovered our faces were painted with embarrassment. The shanty walls would not fold to the center as boasted.

Standing flat footed with our Turkey in hand, it was suggested by my wife to take it easy with the Turkey. Speaking up; "All the plans of mice and men…why are we always the mice?"

A new design was needed which consumed another bottle of our favorite feathered beverage.  It was worth it in our minds.

Winter came upon us and was time to drag our ice shanty to the middle of the lake joining the other anglers sitting in the cold on white plastic buckets. We unfolded our shanty, broke out the ice auger, a bucket of ice, along with a new bottle of Wild Turkey. The portable television was placed on a bracket for easy viewing. It was perfection, fishing, football, and feathers, not necessarily in that order.

After a few Sunday’s, everything was going to plan, it was dry, warm, and a great place to hide, while the honey-do list was turning yellow on the kitchen counter.

On Super Bowl Sunday we found ourselves warm and cozy out on the lake while the wind howled, blowing silver dollar sized snowflakes in circular patterns screaming across the flat lake. Playing backgammon for shots of feathers aided our fishing skills. Instead of watching the poor fish flop around on the ice floor inside our shanty and possibly slip back into the lake, it was my job to open the door and toss them out on the ice until we were ready to leave.

As remembered, it was sometime during the Super Bowl halftime show, opening the door tossing a fish onto the ice.

“We are in the middle of a blizzard with the snowflakes stacking up quickly” telling Bob. Scanning around and looking into the blinding snow storm my mind failed. Six of my eight cylinders came to a screeching halt. Seeing several young co-ed’s prancing across the frozen lake, in the middle of a snow storm, in bikinis, with bright red skin from the howling wind.

"Bob, cut me off!"

"Why?"

"There are six to eight young babes outside wearing nothing but bikinis and snow boots.”

"What?"

"Slide over here and verify my brain is still functioning."

Bob crawled over, opened the door and to his disbelief, the girls were just passing our ice shanty. He moved back over, sat down, with a bewildered look on his face.

"Ed, we need to put the feathers away.”

It was not until the next weekend when we're sitting in the Edinboro Hotel bar, did we learn the reason. There was a contest between two Lakeside bars which brought the bikini-clad coeds prancing across the lake, in line with our ice shanty, going from one bar to the other.

“Bar keep, set up a couple glasses of Wild Turkey. My friend is buying.”